Run, Run Rosie
by Violentredroses
Summary: Rose never intended to let him in. She never thought he'd be interested in the quiet barmaid; nobody was to be honest. However, Mr. Shelby brought butterflies to her stomach and a blush on her cheeks whenever he looked her way. TommyxOFC, some PollyxOMC
1. Chapter 1

**_Disclaimer: I do not in any way own the characters or settings of Peaky Blinders. They are the creation of Steven Knight._**

 _She grabbed whatever she could and stuck it in the suitcase. The dark wasn't a hindrance to her plan. She knew the basement better than anyone. She found the window perfectly fine and without tipping or knocking anything over. Taking out the bobby pin and paper clip she'd stolen from his office, she picked the lock he kept on the basement window. After months of chiseling away at the dried paste keeping it shut, Rose finally managed wiggling the wood free. He never noticed because the dim lighting kept the window in darkness. She was thankful for the darkness._

 _A cool breeze swept through the room the moment she opened the window. She took in the scent of the fresh air, and felt the stuffiness of her prison leaving her lungs. This is what freedom smells like, she thought. Shoving her small suitcase through the window, she climbed on top of the broken desk, and climbed. The dewy grass wet her palms and the earth tangled with the air in her nose, but she didn't care. The moment she stood, she ran. She didn't know where she'd go, but anywhere was better than the prison she once called home._

The flat hadn't been what she expected, but it'd be enough. The day she'd spent in Small Heath were too good to last, but this bump in the road wasn't completely unwelcome. Seeing drab curtains on either side of the grimy window, the cold fireplace dirtied by cobwebs and old ashes, a stained bathtub and the unused kitchen area, she figured nobody lived here in a long time. She was surprised the bed wasn't in disrepair or the mattress stained.

"It ain't much," the bartender told her, "But would it do?"

"Yes," Rose nodded, "Thank you Mr. Fenton."

Harry Fenton stood in the doorway; arms crossed and rag over his shoulder. He seemed like a kind enough man, and he'd been decent enough to let her stay, so she couldn't say 'no'. She thought he'd ask for one of those favors her father told her of, but he did nothing of the sort. In fact, he seemed more concerned with her working capability. She'd come in that morning asking for a job in his bar, The Garrison, and he'd reluctantly agreed. He told her she was too pretty for a dingy pub like his, but she proved she could handle the work by a practice run he gave her. When she'd proved she could handle the customers, the drinks, the spit buckets, and the cleaning and restocking, he kept her. When she mentioned she needed a place to stay, he offered up the old apartment upstairs.

"Harry is fine," he said. "With a little bit of work, this place might look pretty good."

"I don't mind," she replied. "Who lived here before, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Eh, nobody in particular. It's changed hands a lot over the years," he explained. "I think a barber lived here for a bit before you, then the war happened, and this place sort of fell apart. I didn't see the point in its upkeep, since nobody's asked to live in it."

She spotted the thick line of dust on the old dresser drawer. Yes, this place would definitely need work. She immediately thought of the home she'd left behind. He'd asked her to keep it immaculately clean. He even checked her work to see if she'd done it right. Now, she could do things her own way. Rose put her suitcase on the mattress, examining the patchwork quilt that someone must've left.

 _The world itself seemed so new and vibrant. She walked into the small town she'd stumbled upon, and looked around. It was mostly factories and warehouses. Big, sweaty men toiled by shoveling coal, chucking wood into large fire places, and heavy lifting. None of them truly noticed her, and neither did anyone walking by. She felt somewhat grateful for this invisibility. She stared around at the different shops, looked into store windows, and smiled. He never let her leave the house, but she knew. She knew there was life outside those walls. Here it was, right in front of her eyes._

 _She heard the clopping behind her. Clopping meant a horse surely. She turned around to see a man astride a brown horse. The horse wasn't saddled, but its rider didn't seem bothered. He wore a flat cap that matched his tweed suit. Rose couldn't see much of his face, yet she assumed he was wealthy to a point. His horse was a beautiful creature. She saw its hard muscles move with every step; its long legs were thin but strong. It huffed from its snout as it moved down the road. She'd only ever seen them in pictures. Seeing one so close felt almost unreal._

 _The man looked away from the road before him and noticed her. She gasped and turned her head elsewhere. Butterflies filled her stomach. She pretended to be looking at necklaces in a window. Certainly he'd keep on moving. She wasn't anyone important. Yet, the clopping stopped and the horse neighed._

" _Are you lost, miss?" his voice was smooth and deep. It sent shivers down her spine._

 _She slowly turned, not looking at him directly, "I'm new to town, sir. I was just, um, looking for work." She hated admitting it out loud, especially to someone like him. She thought of what her father said: Men had insatiable appetites. They would take her in a second. She gripped her suitcase handle._

" _Work?" He sounded curious. "I suggest you try The Garrison, then. Harry could use some help around the pub. It's just down the road and to the left."_

" _The Garrison," she repeated. How fitting, she'd be working in a pub. Pubs had been his favorite place, other than home. "Yes, thank you, sir."_

 _He said nothing as he rode away. Rose looked up only to see the back of him. Why had he stopped? Why had he helped and not expected a return favor?_

"I do want to tell you one thing though," Harry said. She noticed he seemed a bit nervous now, "I don't know if this placement will be permanent."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well, I don't exactly own this pub," he said. "It belongs to The Peaky Blinders. They're the ones who took it from me and made it theirs. I just tend the bar and keep customers happy."

"Who are the Peaky Blinders?"

"They're a gang run by the Shelby brothers. They're all frequent customers here," he told her. "I'd have to check with Tommy to see if it's okay to rent this place to you, since he owns it."

"Oh…" she felt a bit disheartened by the news. What if this Shelby man didn't want her living there? "It's fine if he says 'no'. I can always find another place."

"I mean, I'm sure he wouldn't refuse a face like yours," he said, "Especially with all the business you'd bring in, but you never know with those Shelbys."

"So, you're saying I'd have to impress him somehow if I want to stay?"

"I suppose," he shrugged. "I can't say for certain. I just don't want to make any promises and then…You seem like a sweet girl, Rose. I wouldn't like throwing you out onto the curb. Maybe if you flashed some charm his way, he'd consider it."

'Charm'? Rose wasn't sure if she even had any charm. Charming was never needed where she'd lived. She'd never charmed anyone.

"I guess," she said, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

"Well," he sighed, "I'll let you get settled in. I think you're gonna do fine here."

"Thank you," she said.

He closed the door, and suddenly she felt the silence. She stared about the room once more before she clicked open her suitcase. Rose hadn't packed much. She supposed leaving in a rush can do that to someone. She'd packed a few pieces of clothing, her books, and a photo frame. The photo centered on a dark haired woman holding a baby with the sea behind her. Rose put the frame on the dusty dresser, and took a look in the large mirror above it. Her long chestnut hair stayed tied back in its ribbon with only a few stray strands hanging around her pale face. He always told her how peaky and miserable she looked. She tried not noticing the shadows underneath her jade-colored eyes or the burn scar on the edge of her left ear. She moved a piece of hair in front of the scar side of her hair line. Rose then remembered the tonic she'd left at home. She cursed herself, but moved back to the room.

She ripped off a piece of the old curtain and used it to wipe down the insides of the drawer. Then, she filled it with the clothes she'd brought. Everything neatly folded she put her suitcase under the bed along with her scuffed boots. She honestly didn't know where she'd start first, if this Shelby person even allowed her to stay. For now, she'd work with what she had on her. Feeling wary about the tub itself, she merely filled an old kettle from a cupboard with water; let it boil before running it over her body with another curtain piece.

He'd be angry when he found she'd gone, she thought. She'd already been gone a day, so surely he'd be sober enough. He'd scream, holler, throw things and then drink some more. She wondered how long it'd be until he started looking. Probably when he saw his dishes weren't clean, his clothes not washed, and his house in disarray. He might've been a drunk, but years in the service made him unbelievably organized and clean. He always told her if she left him, she'd get picked up by a pimp and become a whore. He said the world was dangerous and sinful, and that she would get lost in it if she dared leave. He even made sure she never left him. She thanked God for long sweaters and blouses.

She forgot about him as she pulled on her night dress. Getting onto her knees next to her bed, she prayed. "Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day, our daily bread, and forgive our debts as we also have forgiven out debtors. And lead us not into temptation and deliver us from evil. Amen." Evil. A fiend who'd been far too familiar with her. She prayed for a restful sleep and hopeful dreams. She hoped for a new day and a new beginning. She begged forgiveness for her abandonment, and for His understanding. She crossed her chest, and settled for the night. She found the mattress surprisingly comfortable.

Tomorrow would be a new day…she hoped.


	2. Chapter 2

She came down early the following morning after the meager breakfast she'd eaten. She set to work changing the beer barrels from the previous night, and restocking whatever bottles ran low. She gave tables a wipe down, replaced broken glasses, and swept the floor. She needed the work. Working at such a steady pace kept her mind focused on the present instead of the past. She had no worries when working. Harry appeared impressed by her flawless work.

"Wow girl," he said, smiling as he inspected the bar, "You do fine work for such a skinny thing."

"I just do it to kill time before we open," she replied. "I…I need the distraction."

"Well, gents are going to be coming in soon," he told her, "The morning bunches aren't that bad. They're mostly factory and dock workers. They need the lift before heading out to work, I guess."

"I assume they keep to themselves then?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "You don't have anything to worry about from them. It's the night shift that gets a bit rowdy, but I'm confident you can handle it."

She smiled at him. The first group of men came in asking for pints or glasses of gin or whiskey. They appeared groggy or irritated. She did her best not to bother them. She kept herself quiet like she'd done at home. Men came and left the pub, a few even lingering for conversation. Her head perked up each time those doors opened. She expected almost any moment for him to come bursting through the doors. He'd howl and rage about where his daughter had gone, and then drag her by the hair all the way home. However, this scenario never happened. Every man who came in grumbled his good morning, placed his money on the bar and received his drink. She was thankful, but it never stopped her nerves from bundling up. Men didn't seem very interested in the girl behind the bar, though some of them did acknowledge her. One in particular approached and looked her up and down the moment he entered. He was a well-dressed man with slick brown hair and a neatly trimmed mustache on his upper lip.

"Harry," he called to her employer, who served him a tall beer, "Who's this lovely creature you got here?" His voice was rough, but not unpleasant. She avoided his gaze, concentrating on her work as the man stared.

"This is Rose," Harry told him. "She only started yesterday."

"Rose…" the man said it slow, like a wine being savored in his mouth. He took a gulp of his beer, "Just as pretty as one too." He moved her to her, taking the stool in front of her. "Arthur Shelby."

Shelby. She supposed he was one of the brothers Harry told her about. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Shelby."

"Ah, pretty girls like you can call me Arthur," he smirked, taking another gulp of his drink. "So, what brings you to a place like this?"

"I…I needed work," she answered. Another customer came to the bar, and she poured them a whiskey. "Couldn't find any until, um, Harry…Harry gave me the job."

"And it's a good thing he did," Arthur said. "He could use a fresh face around here."

"I suppose," she said. "I was new to town, so Harry let me stay in the flat upstairs." She felt herself over sharing. _'Don't give away too much,'_ she scolded herself. _'Nobody cares anyways.'_

"You're living in that hole up there?" he sounded affronted by the words. He looked at Harry, "Harry, what kind of man makes such a gorgeous girl live in squalor?"

"The girl needed a place to sleep and that's the only one I got that the whores and drunks don't go to," Harry reasoned. "She said she didn't mind it."

"She should be living in a bloody palace," he said, pointing at her. "She's too good for this place."

He winked at her, and drank more of his beer. No man ever said such things about her. In fact, she hadn't met many men in her time. He kept her too close for that to happen. Her stomach stayed in knots, and she tried keeping herself composed. She couldn't let Harry think she wasn't sociable. Talking to customers was part of being a barmaid. Customers needed to feel welcome in the pub otherwise the atmosphere loses its warmth. At least, that's what she assumed.

"I don't' mind it," she said. "It's…It's a fixer upper, but nothing I can't handle. I'm grateful for it." Ugh Holy Jesus, she sounded so awkward. She began wiping down the bar for something to keep her busy.

"I happen to know a few handymen in town," he informed her. "If you got anything that needs proper fixing, just let me know and I'll take care of it for you."

"Oh thank you," she said, "But that won't be necessary. I-"

"-That room needs a lot of work," he said. "A lovely woman shouldn't have to even lift up a hammer at all."

Arthur watched her as she worked, ordering more beer just so she'd have to come back over to him. She felt uncomfortable being gazed at so intently. However, his flirtations weren't completely unwelcomed.

"Arthur," a young man entered the pub a while later. A toothpick on the side of his mouth and his flat cap tilted to the side, he also dressed in a tailored suit and walked with a certain swagger. Rose had been serving Arthur a whiskey when the man approached them. "Arthur, come on, we need to get down to the shop…" the young man's words faded away as his eyes glimpsed Rose, "Well, hello there". He gave her the same look as Arthur, only his eyes seemed more flirtatious rather than lustful. He smirked, leaning his elbow on the bar, "Arthur, I think you and I should go to church."

"What for?" Arthur asked bemused.

"Because somebody's gotta tell the Lord he's missing an angel."

Rose's cheeks grew hot, but she hid them. Arthur laughed out loud, patting the other man's shoulder, "Ah John Boy, you got a lot to learn about picking up women." When his laughter died down, he said, "Rose, this is my younger brother, John. John, this is the new barmaid, Rose."

"I'm not that much younger," John said to her, "Just so you know." He moved the toothpick around in his mouth. "I think I'll have a beer too while I'm here. The shop can wait."

' _Conversation, Rosie. Conversation,'_ she remembered. These two men were engrossed in her, so it'd only be fair that she ask questions back. She served him a beer mug, making sure not a drop spilled. "Shop? So, you own a shop then?"

"Well," John said, lifting the beer she gave him to his lips, "It's a betting shop."

"A…A betting shop?" she'd never heard of such a place. She assumed by the name it meant people betted there. "What do people bet on there?"

"Horses," Arthur answered.

"But…Don't people usually go to racetracks for that sort of thing?" she asked.

"Rich people do," John answered. "It's not…It ain't exactly _legal_ , so to speak. We're making money that the tracks running the races should be making instead."

"Oh…" Rose didn't think she should ask anymore.

"You should come by," Arthur said hastily. "You know come and see what it's all about. If you want to, that is."

"What is she gonna see at a gambling den?" John asked him.

"She can see how we run things," he said. "She might even place a bet herself, you never know."

John laughed, "Her? Eh, I doubt that."

Rose chimed in, "I don't know anything about gambling anyways. I…I've never been around anyone who did." Her father had never been a gambling man. He preferred losing his money to drink rather than horse races. "So, I wouldn't really know what was going on to begin with," another man came to the bar and she attended him at once.

"I would teach you," Arthur said. "I would teach you a lot about betting." Something told her he had more than betting on his mind.

"If anybody should be showing her how to bet, it should be me," John said. "I'm the chalker."

"Well, I'm the boss."

"No, Tommy's the boss. You're the red herring for the coppers," John sniped back.

Rose served another whiskey, wiping the drops that spilled on the bar top. "Oh ho-ho, you're playing that game now are we?" Arthur chuckled, fixing his jacket. He looked at Rose, "If you want a more _experienced_ man, Rose, I'd love to show you," he winked, "With John, it'd be too quick."

"I'd careful with him though, Rose," John said next. "He's a bit old, so he might break his hip," he stifled his laugh, patting his brother on the chest.

Rose looked at the both as they bantered back and forth. She saw the playfulness they shared between them. She'd never seen such closeness in brothers. A part of her wished she'd had a similar feeling. Sadly, she never had a sister or brother. They finished their drinks and John left.

"Like I said," Arthur leaned in over the bar, "If you ever need anything, come by the shop. 4th Watery Lane. Ask for me."

She nodded, "Okay."

"Good day, Rose."

"Bye, Arthur."

She watched him leave. He left her with an unsettled, but intrigued feeling in her stomach. It replaced the worry she'd had all morning. She continued serving until Harry pulled her aside.

"Rose," he said quietly, "There's something you should know."

"Yes?"

"Now, I'm only saying this because I don't want a nice girl like you getting tangled up with the Shelbys, but…if one of them ends up wanting you, there isn't much anyone can do about it."

"What do you mean?" she asked, pouring a beer from the tap.

"I mean…People around here fear the Shelby brothers. They're the sort that gets what they want without questions or complaints. If one of them puts his sights on you, nobody is gonna stop them…if you know what I'm talking about," he implied. Rose knew what he meant now. "I'm not saying they'll do THAT to you, but I wouldn't suggest turning any of them down. They're a persistent bunch. I would know. So, I suggest you steer clear of them. They're not the type you ought to be getting mixed up with."

"I…I don't want to get mixed up with anyone," she said. "Getting mixed up is the last thing I want actually." She couldn't talk to anyone, at least not yet. Caution and discretion was needed for right now.

"Good. It's best to keep it like that," he told her. "If you need me, I'll be in the back changing the barrels."

* * *

He found him sitting in the office. Tommy never failed in noticing the bottle and glass on the desk. Arthur drinking in the shop wasn't an uncommon occurrence, and Tommy had hoped he'd stay a bit more sober. He'd already smelled the alcohol on John's breath in the shop just outside the door. The man told him they'd been drinking in The Garrison, talking to the new barmaid. Tommy assumed it'd been more of them fighting over her than actually talking.

Arthur leaned back in his chair, eyes closed and a small smile upon his face.

"You were seen in Garrison Court," Arthur said without opening his eyes, "Doing the powder trick."

"And you were seen drinking at The Garrison," Tommy replied.

"And? Is that a crime?"

"Arthur, we all agreed. You, me and John. A beer and then a chaser before coming into the shop for the day," he said. "John said you two had more than that talking to that barmaid."

Arthur smiled, "Rose…Oh, she's a beauty, Tommy. Soft. Sweet. She's like the sun, she is. She's bright and warm without even trying. I would've gotten farther if John Boy hadn't come along and ruined things for me."

"Sounds lovely, but that doesn't-"

"-She's got these gorgeous green eyes. I've never seen any like them before. Oh, the way she would blink and look at me. She was like a little lamb or a dove-"

"-Arthur-"

"-And Harry's got her staying in that bloody shit hole upstairs. She shouldn't be there. She should be somewhere deserving of her; somewhere comfortable and safe. She's too sweet to be left alone like that-"

"-Arthur!-" Tommy said more firmly.

"What?!" he snapped his head over to him, "Can't a man think about a woman in peace?!"

"Not when he's got business to handle here in the shop," Tommy retorted.

"Business," Arthur said nodding, "You want to talk business, eh Tom? Alright, let's talk business then. Let's start with, what the bloody hell were you doing the powder trick for in Garrison Court?"

"Times are hard. People need a reason to lay a bet."

"It was a Chinese," Arthur said. "A fucking Chinese, Tommy."

"The washerwomen say she's a witch," he shrugged. "It helps them believe. If they believe, they place bets. If they place bets, we get more money in our pockets."

"The Chinese have cutters of their own," he growled at him. The drink was obviously catching up with him now. Tommy couldn't stand it at times. "They'll come after us if we're not careful."

"We both agreed," he said. "I would be in charge of drumming up their money."

"And what if the horse wins? You fixing races now, Tommy?" he stood up, "Did you get permission from Billy Kimber to be fixing the races? What's gotten into you?! Billy Kimber's got a bloody army! We can't mess with Kimber AND the Chinese! What are you doing Tommy?!"

"I think, Arthur," he said. "That's what I do: I think so you don't have to."

These words pacified him. Arthur's anger faltered slightly as Tommy began walking out. "There's news from Belfast…"

"We'll talk later."

"I'm having a family council tonight! Eight o'clock!" he called after him as he walked out. "I want everybody there!"

He'd go to The Garrison. He needed a drink. Lighting a cigarette, he walked down the busy street of Watery Lane, and turned a corner towards Garrison Court. He thought about Kimber. Billy Kimber owned the third largest race track operation in England. He had nearly an army of men in his employment, and he wasn't afraid to unleash them on anyone who opposed or backstabbed him. Tommy fixing the races at his course would only grab the man's attention, which is what Tommy wanted. Once he'd hear that some gang was fixing races without his permission, he'll come running down to Small Heath. Tommy guessed it wouldn't take him long to notice the irregularities in the bets being placed on Monaghan Boy. When the timing was just right, he'd strike. Not before, not after.

He opened the doors, and saw the usual afternoon regulars there. The men sitting at the bar saw him approach and immediately moved elsewhere in the room. Tommy didn't mind. They were right to be wary of him. To be honest, he hadn't noticed her when he first entered. It'd only been until she stood in front of him that he looked at the person behind the bar. She was a sliver of a thing, only half a head shorter than himself. Black curls tied in a bun behind her head with only a few strands sticking out, her doe-like eyes blinked at him innocently. Her eyes were intriguing. The same color Arthur told him about looked back into his icy blue ones. He understood what got his brother swept up so quickly. She was practically virginal, even though he wouldn't know for sure. For a moment, he thought of another girl he'd once known, but he quickly washed her out.

"What will it be, sir?" she asked.

"Whiskey. Leave the bottle," he told her. He took off his hat and placed it on the bar. He remembered her perfectly once he caught sight of her face. She'd been the woman from yesterday morning, the only one to notice him and Monaghan Boy riding down the street. At the time, he thought her quite brave for staring at him. She seemed so mousey now.

His mind then wandered elsewhere. The guns were still sitting in the stables out of the rain, so he'd need to place them permanently soon before someone else finds them. Charlie wouldn't move anything under a full moon, which meant he'd be waiting at least 3 days. When his men told him they'd drunkenly picked up the wrong crates, he felt annoyed at first. Yet, when he saw the machine guns, pistols, ammunition and other artillery packed inside, ungreased and bound for Libya, he couldn't resist. He told Charlie and Curly to hide them until he figured out what to do with them.

She nodded and retrieved his bottle and a glass. "Harry says it's on the house," she told him.

Tommy ignored her. He placed his money on the bar top and poured himself a glass of whiskey. "So, you took my advice then."

"Sir?" she looked confused.

"I told you about The Garrison the other morning," he answered, "Looks like I was right."

It dawned on her that they'd met before. She said, "Yes, it did."

"You certainly got my brothers interested in you quickly," he said. "They've been going on about you all morning."

"I suppose I did, sir," she said, wiping down the counter.

"You suppose? Arthur wouldn't shut up about you." He looked over at her. He noticed the burn scar on the edge of her left ear. "Arthur told me you're living in the hovel upstairs?"

"I am," she nodded. "Harry let me stay there."

Harry instantly looked at him from the other side of the bar. "If that's okay with you, Mr. Shelby," he said quickly. "She's a nice girl and she needed a place to stay. I gave her the room upstairs. She brings in customers and keeps some of them here longer than usual. She won't cause trouble. I mean, look at her!"

Yes, he did look at her. She didn't face him, but instead focused on cleaning the bottles and fixing them. He saw the anxiousness in her shoulders and dainty hands. She knew he was watching her, and she didn't like it. Most women would look up at him hopefully or bat their lashes at him in hopes he'd say 'yes'. Not this one. He observed her in the mirror behind the bar instead. She looked nervous, like she'd rather vanish into the wall than have his eyes on her. He didn't think she'd be any trouble. She wasn't Grace. Grace would meet his eyes, this one didn't.

"I suppose she can stay," he said.

They didn't own The Garrison officially. Harry paid the gang a protection fee, and the brothers used it as a meeting place. However, the bartender seemed to make it a note to run ideas by him before acting on them. Well, not all of them it seemed. Rose didn't smile, but he saw the hint on her face. She thanked him and went back to work immediately. She was a little lady. Every movement she made was done with grace, every smile polite and shy. She was a woman who didn't belong in a place like The Garrison, or even Small Heath itself.

"Where are you from, Rose?" he asked, drinking the rest of his whiskey.

"Nowhere special," she answered.

"'Nowhere special'? Hm, sounds like a nice place." He'd only met her five minutes ago and already she hid things. "Have you at least worked in a pub before?"

"No, sir, but it's not difficult work," she said.

A girl with no experience as a barmaid but knew her drinks? "Could've fooled me," he said.

He understood her silence. He didn't like too many questions himself. Whatever private business she was keeping safeguarded didn't interest him in the slightest. He sunk back into his thoughts as she worked. The drink helped him think. They'd meant to pick up four motorbikes for a to-order robbery. The cops on his payroll informed him a new Chief Inspector would be coming in from Belfast. Tommy was almost positive he was sent for the weapons. He'd keep them hidden for the time being.

His eyes fell on Rose again. Her right sleeve came up over her wrist, and he saw it. Thin scars parallel to one another went around her wrists before fading in the middle. She immediately pulled the sleeve back over the scars. How did a little lady like her have so many scars? She already matched him and he'd been in a war.

"Thomas Shelby," Freddie Thorn appeared at his side, beer in his hand and a playful smirk on his face. Tommy didn't meet his eyes. He couldn't. "Prince of Small Heath. Soon to be King, I bet," he said.

"You don't bet," Tommy noted, drinking another whiskey.

"No, but I do hear things," he said.

Tommy had a feeling he knew what Freddie heard, but he let him speak. He watched Rose. She wasn't listening to them, especially with one of Freddie's friends chatting her up. She didn't blush or giggle. She politely talked to him the way a little lady would with a small smile.

"One of my Union comrades has a sister who works for the BSA telegram office," he began. "For the past week they've had messages coming up from London from Winston Churchill himself. Word is that a shipment of guns has gone missing from the proofing bay. A robbery of national importance. He told me they found a list of names still in the telegraph machine. They saw your name and my name together, side by side. What kind of list would have the name of a communist and the name of a bookmaker?"

"Perhaps it's a list of men who give false hope to the poor," Tommy said, leaning in to him slightly. "The only difference Freddie is that sometimes, sometimes my horses stand a chance of winning."

Freddie's playful smug faded, and he said, "You know, there are times that I hear about the cuttings and beatings and then I'd let you take that bullet in France."

"Believe me, there are nights when I wish you had." His eyes moved back to Rose a brief moment.

Freddie noticed him looking, and said, "She's a pretty thing, isn't she?"

"I suppose," Tommy shrugged.

"I heard Arthur was in here earlier," Freddie said, "Chatting her up."

"She'd be his type. The shy, naive type who never sees it coming till he whips it out at her," he said just loud enough for Rose to hear.

"Nobody will go near her if they learned a Shelby wanted her," he gave Tommy a sideways glance, "Power like that is hard to come by."

She wouldn't be interested in Arthur, no matter how much he tried wooing her. Little ladies don't fall for criminals.


	3. Chapter 3

Her head pounded. The lights in the pub made it even worse when she looked directly. The chatter and noise didn't anything to help either. She wished she hadn't left her tonic behind. Then again, she couldn't bring it with her if it was locked inside a kitchen cabinet. Perhaps there was an apothecary nearby she could visit. She worked regardless the pain. She hid the winces from Harry and the customers; not that anyone noticed with the beer, whiskey and wine being passed across the bar. She cursed the day she'd gotten the injury. The doctor told her the migraines and headaches were a long lasting effect from the blows done to her head. He hadn't questioned her how she came about them with her father looming over him.

She noticed Arthur walk into the pub looking sour and bothered. He made his order with Harry and then disappeared into the private room beside the bar. She didn't make much of it. She worried about her head more. She even hoped Harry wouldn't ask her to…

"Mr. Shelby wants a pail of beer," Harry said to her, "He asked for you personally. There wasn't anything I could do for you."

"Oh," she said softly. "Alright."

Wonderful. She wasn't sure if she could handle Arthur's suggestive flirtations at the moment, but he didn't seem like a man one refused. Just like his brother. She prepared a pail of beer, and took it to the private room. He sat back in a seat against the wall, eyes closed and body tense. She set the pail down; somewhat hoping he wouldn't say anything to her. However, he opened his eyes when she walked in right away.

"Ah Rose," he said, "Just the thing I needed to brighten my day."

She gave him a smile. Her head throbbed, but she ignored it in front of him. "Bad day then?" she set a beer in front of him. He took a gulp of it right away.

"Not exactly the best," he said.

"I'm sorry about that," she replied. _'Ask him about it. Don't barmaids listen to people's troubles?'_ "Do you…would you like to talk about it?"

"It isn't anything I can talk about out loud," he said.

"Alright," she nodded in understanding, "Well if you do happen to want to-"

"-There's a new copper coming into town, recruiting Irish Protestants as Special," he suddenly said. "Things like that are bad for business."

"I could imagine they are," she said.

"And apparently my younger brother already knew and didn't bother telling anyone who this new copper was," he said. He sounded upset about the matter.

"Well, he does seem like the type who keeps to himself."

"Ah so you met him then?" he sighed, taking another gulp of his beer. "He wasn't always like that though. He used to be different. Then the war happened, and it changed him. It changed all of us to be honest."

She felt this was a touchy subject, so she moved on. "And what is this new policeman coming here for? Is he replacing someone?"

"He's coming to clean up the city, according to Tommy," he answered. "I don't know if you've noticed, but God hasn't been in Small Heath for a very long time. He's supposedly looking for communists; anarchists who want to start a revolution. They're talking about sedition and protests. "

"I haven't really been out and about too much since I arrived," she admitted, "So I wouldn't know about any of those things. I didn't even know communists were a problem here." She wouldn't admit she wasn't sure what a communist was. She only knew that the government didn't like them.

"Not so much a problem for the people as they are for the government. When you got people like Freddie Thorne riling up the factory workers with their speeches and passing out their pamphlets and books, the police get strikes and the BSA loses money and workers."

"And he's coming for that then?

"We hope so. This city isn't exactly clean and free of sin either. Let's just say there are places you should avoid at night, but don't you worry, Rose," he said, "I'd protect you."

The horrors and monsters of the night did not scare her. There was only one thing that frightened her anymore. Him. She winced from the pain in her head, but merely gave Arthur another beer when he finished his first. "If I ever have to go out at night, I'll make sure to let you know," she then said, "I wouldn't know any of these bad places."

"Then I'd show you…and I'd show you all the right ones too," he winked.

A pulsating pain in both sides of her head flashed. She could not conceal this pain from Arthur anymore. He looked at her with something resembling concern. "You alright there, love?" he asked, putting his beer down.

"Don't worry about…about me," she said, rubbing her temple as if that'd make the pain go away. "Just a headache. I-I get them sometimes; head injury, you see."

"Do you…" he seemed almost awkward now, stiffening up and not looking at her, "You take anything for it then?"

"I did," she said, "But I haven't got any with me."

"There's an apothecary in town," he said. "I'm sure they'll have what you're looking for."

"Thanks."

He refilled his own mug and pushed it towards her. "This will help."

"I-I-I can't," she said. How could she explain that if she ingested anything it'd only come back out again? The smells of the pub already made her feel nauseous. She feared she'd vomit any second. "But thank you, Arthur."

"Rose!" Harry's voice came from behind the little window doors, "The spit buckets need to be changed!"

She looked over to Arthur, "Enjoy your drink, Arthur."

She left him to his beer and closed the door. Even running her fingers through her hair hurt her slightly. However, by the grace of God, she somehow survived the entire shift and the cleaning afterwards. She made it back to her apartment in crumbling pieces. The pain hadn't left her in the hours since it began. She hoped it wouldn't last much longer. Shutting the door, she rubbed the sides of her temples that throbbed and pounded. She groaned and moaned as it took over her. Her stomach churned and the slightest sniff of the air made her gag.

She blamed her suffering on Him. He'd been the cause of everything. She'd been ten when he came home, staggering drunk and raving about how the house was a mess. She asked him how could it be a mess if she'd done everything he asked of her? He scolded her for talking back and slapped her across the face. The force of his hit sent a stack of plates toppling towards the floor and shattering into pieces. This only enraged him more. She thought his storming from the room meant he'd sit in his arm chair and stew, not return with a claw hammer. Doctors were surprised when they said she'd only received a fracture and a broken arm. She spent a few days in hospital; doped up on pain killers the nurses gave her every few hours for her pain. He came every so often when he was sober to check on her. Despite their unsteady income, he bought her pills every time she ran out. She believed it'd been his way of apologizing for what he'd done.

She needed her medication. She needed the tablets that kept the pain at bay. The most she could do for herself was brew tea and hope it didn't make her sick. She was lucky she'd packed the ginger tea tin. The pain then subsided enough that she slept through the night.

* * *

A few days later, the migraine passed along with its horrible companions. She spent most of her days working in the pub. She didn't dare leave her flat other than for necessities such as soap, hand towels and whatever else she could afford on the bit she had with her. She found herself tired in the mornings. She couldn't take the nightmares haunting her sleep. She'd dream he'd found her and chained her back in the basement. She would scream and scream and scream at the top of the staircase, but nobody ever opened the door. Rose would hear voices all around her, and see figures in the shadows. She'd shout at them to help, but they'd merely disappear and whisper. It'd be cold and dark with nothing except whispers of voices she didn't know.

She came downstairs one morning, seeing a large crowd of men already filling The Garrison. She tied on her apron when Harry approached her. He told her Arthur came in earlier than usual and dropped something off. She didn't see the relevance until he set down a small bottle on the bar top.

"He left this for you," Harry told her. "He said if you ever needed more, he'd be happy to oblige for you."

She took the bottle in her hand, running her fingers over the sealed cork. She recognized the white tablets that filled the bottle to the opening. Rose grinned at the hand-written label, reading the name of her usual medicine. She tucked the bottle into her pocket and began her work day. The pub was more crowded than it'd been the previous day. She spent a while serving beers and whiskeys and rums and gins and whatever else the men asked for.

"Is there always this many people in the day?" she asked Harry as she poured another beer from the tap.

"Ah no, all these lads are off to St. Andrews!" Harry called over the noise.

"To church?" she found that a bit hard to believe at first.

Harry laughed, "No, girl. It's a football match! That there is the first kicker and that's the goalie!" he said pointing out the mentioned individuals. "Men come here for a pint and then some before setting off."

"A football match," Rose said, "It sounds exciting. I've never been to one before."

"Ah, it's right fun," he told her, "When you got the right people. I'm sure we'll hear all about it tonight when they come back for the celebrations."

When the door opened, she half expected Arthur to come walking through. Instead, she saw the other Shelby brother, Tommy. He walked with confidence and determination. He looked like a man who had important places to be. She studied his high cheekbones, his icy eyes, his dark hair and the way he carried himself. She felt somewhat intimidated by him. He stopped at the little window due to the fact that the bar was full.

"Hello Mr. Shelby," she said, "Can I help you?"

"Bottle of rum," he said, putting down money for it.

"A whole bottle?"

"Yes."

She retrieved the bottle for him. She didn't like how he looked at her. He didn't have the air of lustfulness like Arthur or the flirtatiousness of John, but something else. He stared at her curiously, as if he tried reading her. Rose would give him nothing to read. She handed him the bottle and took his money. He continued looking at her for a moment before he said:

"Are you a whore?"

The question caught her off guard. She fiddled with the ends of her apron, pushing hair from her face. "Sorry, sir?"

"No…You're too pretty to be a whore," he said. "Too clean and neat."

"Um…I don't really understand what you mean."

"I'm trying to figure out why my brother is so interested in you." The words stunned her. She figured Arthur held some interest in her, but she didn't think it'd merit a full-scale investigation into her life. That was the last thing she needed right now. "You've only been here a week, and he's already buying you things. What do you give him in return for them, I wonder?"

"Nothing," she defended. "I don't give him anything. I didn't even ask him to get them for me. I mentioned that I get headaches sometimes, and then this morning Harry hands me a bottle. So what? It's not a crime to do nice things for people."

"No, but when it is someone like Arthur, it's questionable," he replied. "He even asked me to come get you."

"For what?"

"Don't know. He just asked for you. He said looking at you brightened his day. So, take the bottle and follow me."

"I can't just leave," she told him. He turned and seemed irritated by her reluctance. She suddenly faltered. "Harry…He-He needs me here. If you haven't noticed, there are more customers than usual, um, sir."

Tommy sighed. "Harry!" he called to the bartender.

"Yes, Mr. Shelby?" Harry came to Rose's side almost instantly. She felt him put his hands on her shoulders, pulling her ever so slightly towards his chest.

"I'm taking her with me, Harry," he said. "So you'll be on your own for a bit until she gets back."

"Sir, whatever Rose did, I'm sure she didn't mean it. I'm sure you could do with somebody else."

"I'm asking for Rose," Tommy said.

Harry nodded defeated, "Yes, Mr. Shelby."

Rose felt a lump in her throat watching the man take the bottle and making his way towards the door. Arthur asked for her, which wasn't surprising, but apparently Tommy wanted her to follow him. She wasn't comfortable around him. He made her insides twist and his eyes felt cold, unfeeling. She'd only been here a few days and already she thought about going elsewhere. She turned to Harry and said, "I don't want to go, Harry."

"Well, you don't have much of a choice," he said. "I told you, if one of them wants you, nobody can really stop them. I'm sure it won't be as bad as you think. Tommy hasn't really wanted anybody, so you don't have to worry about him. He hasn't wanted anyone since France."

Harry patted her shoulder and ushered her from behind the counter. She untied her apron and followed Tommy out of the bar and into the chilly air outside. Her black and white polka-dot dress fluttered around her knees, and she fiddled with the buttons on her sleeve cuffs. She became hot under her high collar. She kept thinking what Tommy had planned for her once they reached their destination. Perhaps saying Arthur asked for her was his way of getting her to himself. Maybe Arthur doesn't mind sharing girls with his brothers. Her skin crawled thinking of him using her. He wouldn't be gentle. Men like him never are. Rose walked in pace with Tommy, who stayed quiet as he smoked a cigarette.

"What is the bottle for?" she broke their silence.

"Arthur," he answered. "He'd been left on our front porch bruised and battered. This is for the wounds." He then asked, "What is your bottle for?"

"Headaches," she replied. "I get them from time to time." She didn't elaborate. He wouldn't care.

"And you wouldn't get the stuff yourself ?"

"I would've if I had the money for it," she said. "I didn't ask Arthur to buy it for me."

"You didn't have to," he said. "You just batted your pretty eyes and said it in that sweet tone of yours, and he melted."

"I did not," she defended. Who did he think he was presuming he knew anything about her?

"It's what girls like you always do. You get whatever you want only because you're pretty and sweet-looking."

She didn't reply. Had that been what she'd done? If so, she hadn't meant it.

"I just don't know why a woman would move to a new city with no money, no potential job or place to live, and without the medication she clearly needs to have on hand," he gave her a sideways glance, "Unless she left in a hurry."

"With all respect, Mr. Shelby," she said, "It's none of your business why I'm here or why I came with barely anything."

He nodded, "You're right. It's not."

They reached Number 4 Watery Lane. The inside was nicely decorated with things that looked old and probably have been in the family for ages. The rooms were a bit smaller, but homey. She didn't know what she's expected. She guessed the Shelby's being so well known in town and being so vastly feared they would've lived in a larger house or had more money. She followed him to a dining room where a group of people stood around a man in a chair. She saw John leaning against a cabinet, a dark haired girl wringing out a cloth in a bowl of hot water, and another dark haired woman bandaging up Arthur's finger. She felt out of place in such an intimate settings. She stopped in the doorway as Tommy hurried into the room.

"Let me see him," Tommy said, opening the bottle at the table.

She then saw the man in the chair. Arthur sat shirtless; his face bloody and bruised as if he'd been beaten. No. She knew for a fact he'd been beaten. She knew the signs; they all checked out. She timidly stepped into the room, finally gaining the attention of the family. Arthur looked over his shoulder and smiled through the blood.

"There's the most gorgeous girl in Small Heath," this compliment was followed by a sharp wince as Tommy pressed a rum-soaked cloth to the gash on his forehead.

"Arthur," she said, "Who did this to you?"

"Nobody important," he said. "Did you get the medicine? I told Harry to give it to you."

"I did," she nodded. "Thank you."

Her eyes fell on the wound Tommy worked on. It didn't matter how many times he applied pressure and rum, the wound continued bleeding. She thought for a moment that rum wasn't the best for open wounds, considering it had more in it than alcohol. The breakage in the skin stretched too far, too long and looked too deep for the injury to properly heal in such a way. She stepped closer without disturbing anyone. The jagged edges concerned her. She'd seen such abrasions on herself. Her mother told her such wounds needed stitching.

"You need to stitch it," she said.

He looked over at her in the same annoyed sense, "No, it doesn't."

"Yes, it does," she replied. "It-It's too deep and too long. I'm also sure he's had it like this for longer than eight hours. It could get infected, and if it gets infected he'd need to see a real doctor or go to the hospital."

"And they ask questions in hospitals," Arthur added, "Awkward ones."

Tommy looked between the both of them. She saw the skepticism in his face; he almost challenged her to prove him wrong. He then handed her the cloth, "If you're such an expert, perhaps you could stitch him then. Ada," he called the younger woman in the room, "Fetch a thread and needle."

She nodded and left the room. Rose stepped in front of Arthur and assessed the severity of his damage. He bled from his nose and lip as expected; a cut on his eyebrow leaked blood into his eye. She gently touched his swollen cheekbone, making him flinch away slightly. She took the rag from Tommy and wiped the blood from his eye. She could hear her mother's voice in the back of her head.

' _You have a healer's hands, sweet one. Gentle and soft.'_

The wound on his forehead wasn't much better. Whoever hit him used a blunt object rather than their fists because a fist couldn't make such a gash. Tommy's efforts did stop most of the bleeding, but not enough. She pinched the two sides together, seeing the blood leak some more. The girl-Ada-came back into the room with a sewing box and set it on the table. She handed Rose a spool of thread and a needle. She thanked her and began measuring out a decent length. They all watched her work. She felt a bit nervous underneath their gazes; particularly Tommy's disapproving one. She pinched the skin again and stuck the needle in to make the first stitch. She bent over a bit more so she could work easier. Arthur saw this struggle and pulled her closer over his lap.

"Don't mind getting comfortable, love," he smirked.

His hands were close to her thighs, and their bodies were inches apart. Despite the pain he must've felt, Arthur still lusted for her. She tried not letting it distract her.

"So, you're Rose then?" the dark haired woman who'd bandaged Arthur's broken finger asked.

"Yes, ma'am," she said.

"I can see what Arthur was talking about now," she said, a small smile on her face. "I'm Polly, their aunt."

"And I'm their sister," the girl said next, "Ada."

"Nice to meet you both," she said. She grabbed a second piece of thread for the stitch.

"You work in The Garrison, don't you?" Ada asked, taking the bowl of water and replacing the old water with fresh, hot water.

"I do," she replied. "I've only been there a week, though." She dabbed a wet cloth on the skin around the wound before continuing.

"Arthur says you showed up a few days ago," Polly said. "Sort of popped out of thin air, he said." She was digging. Rose could feel her eyes reading her. She felt so exposed and she hadn't even said anything yet. "Where did you come from?"

"Nowhere, apparently," Tommy answered for her. "It's what she told me."

"Tommy," Polly gave him a stern glance before looking back to Rose for an answer.

Rose observed this woman a brief moment. There was something warm about her regardless of how guarded and cold she appeared on the outside. She didn't dig because she distrusted her like Tommy. She dug because she wanted to know the girl her nephew was so enthralled by. Rose could tell her, if only a small bit.

"I lived a little outside of Birmingham," she answered. "Maybe a few hours away in the country."

"The country," Ada said, "What made you trade the fresh air for the smoke around this dump?"

"Change of scenery, I suppose," she readied a second thread for Arthur's head, nearly finishing up.

"And they have medical training in the country?" Polly asked, almost amused.

"N-no, ma'am," she said. "My mother had been a nurse. My father fell at the farm where he worked and we didn't have money for hospital bills, so my mother fixed him up herself. She showed me how to do it."

"Father is a farmer then?"

"He is."

'Was' would have been a better term. Her father hadn't worked on a farm in ages considering a lot of farm owners knew about his condition. They received money every so often when he found work on building sites or in factories, though those never lasted long either. However, Rose kept that bit to herself.

"Sounds lovely living in the country," Ada smiled, sitting down and watching her work. "I always wanted to live in a little country house; have a farm…maybe some chickens or pigs. Did you have chickens and pigs?"

"Just chickens," Rose answered. "We had a little coupe in the back of our house. My father was always proud of it." His chickens had been the only thing he managed to keep stable. "He'd breed them and sell them from time to time."

"A pretty country girl," Arthur said, his thumb rubbing her thigh outside of her dress. Her body tensed at his touch. She tried ignoring it as she finished the last stitch. "It's as if God answered my prayers."

"And you know what they say about country girls," John grinned, looking her up and down.

"Enough you two," Polly said over their shared laughter. "She's not a piece of meat. She's a human being." She looked to Rose, "Forgive them. Men only think with one thing and it's a particular affliction in this family, it seems."

"Aw come on, Pol," John said. "Can you blame us? I mean, look at her!" he gestured over to Rose.

"Just because you think she's pretty doesn't merit that sort of attention," Polly scolded. "It's bad enough she works at The Garrison. I'm sure she gets more attention than she wants there."

"I think it'd be wonderful having another woman around," Ada smiled at her. "Especially one who's handy with a needle. With the way this family is, we could use someone who isn't afraid to get their hands dirty with blood."

"Do these men get beat often then?" she asked.

John laughed, "Nah. Usually we're the ones tolling out the beatings."

"That's right," Arthur agreed. "Don't you worry, little Miss, you won't need to be stitching me up all the time. We'd have our own little nurse here at home."

She set down the needle, cutting the end of the thread and picking up the bandage cloth. "I wouldn't say I'm a nurse," she said. "I just…have a bit of experience with stitches."

She wouldn't think of all the times she stitched her own injuries. She wouldn't think of blood dripping down her skin as she ran the thread through, biting down on her lip when the pain hit. She focused on the work in front of her. "Keep this bandage on and change it every night," she instructed. "It'll take a while to heal, but you'll know when it's time to take out the stitches."

"Or I can simply ask you," Arthur said. She heard the undertone in his voice. She knew he wanted more than only her medical skills.

"Well, it seems you're full of surprises, Rose," Tommy cut in between them.

"I suppose," she said, sliding away from Arthur and cleaning her hands in the bowl. "I didn't know you'd be bringing me here for stitching."

"Wasn't planning on it," he answered back. "Like I said, Arthur wanted to see you."

"And it's a good thing she did come," Polly said. "Otherwise, your brother might be sick by now."

Tommy shifted his eyes over towards Polly for a moment before resting back on Rose. "You can go now, Rose," he said. "Thank you for your help."

"Oh why can't she stay?" Ada asked. "We were just getting to know her."

"She has to go back to The Garrison," he told her. "Harry's waiting on her."

She somewhat hated admitting he was right. "Yes," she said. "There's a football match today, so he has more on his hands than he could handle. I'd feel guilty leaving him on his own for too long."

"Then I suppose I'll be stopping by later," John winked.

"Not if I'm there first, little brother," Arthur said.

"Oh like she'd care if either of you were there," Ada scoffed.

Polly stood from her seat, "If she must go, then I'll walk her out."

She said her goodbyes and followed Polly out of the room. "That's a kind thing you did for Arthur," she said once they were alone, "Even with all his comments. We won't forget it."

"It was no trouble really," she said. "I didn't even understand why Arthur would want to see me when he was in such a state, but I'm happy I helped."

Polly opened the door for her, and Rose stepped out onto the porch. "That's the thing though, isn't it?"

"Ma'am?"

She gave a knowing smirk, "Arthur never asked for you. In fact, he never mentioned you to Tommy at all."

"But why would he tell me that then?"

"That is a question you'd have to ask Tommy," she smiled. "Goodbye Rose. I have a feeling we'll be seeing a lot more of one another."

"Goodbye, Polly," she replied.

Once the woman closed the door, Rose felt confused. Walking back to the pub, she thought about what Polly told her. Why would Tommy bring her if Arthur didn't ask for her? And why would he lie? Tommy Shelby didn't seem very interested in her. In fact, he showed the opposite. He was a perplexing man.


	4. Chapter 4

He found them loading the boxes into the boat on the third night. Uncle Charlie only moved contraband underneath a new moon, so it'd given him a few days. A few days to decide whether he'd keep the guns or play his hand with them. Walking to Charlie and Curly, the river running through the docks stayed still and quiet without the wind, the cold air kissed his cheeks as he reached them, but his cigarette kept him relatively warm. The docks were empty at this time, so there was no worry of suspecting eyes. Charlie, a tall, lanky man weathered by age and the docks, hadn't noticed him until he stopped a few feet from the edge.

"Uncle Charlie," Tommy said, "A word?"

"Come aboard," Uncle Charlie said, "There's no moon tonight. We can move the contraband as far as Gastly and leave it for the coppers to find on the bank of the cut."

Tommy hesitated, thinking as he overlooked the crates that Curly loaded into the boat. "I've changed my mind."

"You what?"

He nodded, a shadow of a smile on his face, "I've come up with a different strategy." The plan felt right. "Tell Curly to take them down to the old Tobbaco warf. He'll know where it is. Tell him to load the boxes in the lock up mooring where we keep the cigarettes and leave them there. When the boat leaves your yard, it's no longer your concern."

"Have you lost your fucking mind?" Charlie asked. "They sent a fucking army after these things. They'll do anything to find them. Anything."

"That's right," Tommy said. "Anything we ask of them. If they want these guns back so badly, they'll have to pay like everyone else. It's the way of the world. Fortune dumps something valuable into your lap, you don't just throw it onto the bank of the cut."

Charlie warned him as Tommy knew he would. "Tommy…You're my blood. I've always looked out for you. If you do this, you'll only bring down a rain of chaos on your head. This copper…he doesn't take any prisoners, Tommy. He'll have your head on a spike if he could, and the rest of us too. Is that what you want? Your family to go down this way?"

"I'm told he didn't serve," Tommy nearly smirked. "Reserved because of his occupation."

Charlie stared, "Is it another war you're looking for, Tommy?"

"The tobacco warf," Tommy instructed, "By order of the Peaky Blinders."

He slipped the keys to the warf into Charlie's coat pocket and walked away from him, flinging his cigarette aside.

He walked back home from the docks. Having the guns stashed away would win them time. He was more than aware of this new inspector's intentions and track record. He knew he must use a bit of caution when dealing with men like him, but Tommy wasn't afraid. This man had Winston Churchill riding him for these guns. He'll do whatever Tommy wanted for them, and Tommy had a list already formulated.

Tommy's mind wandered. He found himself thinking of Rose. He tried forgetting how the sun caught in her hair from the windows, and the softness of her voice. He didn't like thinking of how jealous he felt when she stood over Arthur's lap, the older man getting the briefest touch. He wouldn't think about lying naked with her in his bed, combing his fingers through her silky curls as she revealed everything to him and he the same with her. It almost didn't matter that she kept secrets. Everybody had secrets. He had a few himself. Tommy asked her to the house because he knew Aunt Polly would get something out of her. Women preferred sharing stories with other women, Polly said.

' _She seems like a sweet girl, Tommy,'_ Polly told him when Rose had gone. _'I don't know what you're so worried about.'_

He wasn't worried about Rose. He was worried about Arthur. It concerned him that his brother immediately fell for a woman he didn't know. Arthur spent most of his spare time in The Garrison or with whores. He'd never shown genuine interest in a woman who wasn't paid for the time. He certainly never bought them anything. The last thing he needed was Arthur sulking over a woman when he discovers she's not what he thought. Arthur already suffered from War Time Blues, as the veterans called it, occasionally falling into a depression from his time in France. However, he felt Arthur's infatuation was mostly lust driven.

' _She's a virgin…a pure, virtuous flower waiting to bloom,'_ he thought. _'Arthur always liked being the first.'_

The girl didn't exactly hide it either. Tommy could tell simply from looking at her, and the fact she'd lived in the country told him everything. She stiffened when Arthur touched her thigh, and she avoided his flirtations. Most girls he knew blushed or giggled. Rose dodged them like bullets. He assumed her upbringing made her wary of sex and men. He wondered what sort of upbringing prohibits such things.

He'd reached Garrison Court when he heard it. The sound of grunting and heavy dragging reached his ears the further he moved through the street. He then spotted the source. Tommy could make out Rose's thin frame anywhere. He also saw the large barrels she rolled through The Garrison's back doors. She'd been in the process of rolling when he approached. He watched paitently. She'd guide the barrel through the door, where he'd hear a bit more of her struggle before she came back out, sighing and wiping her brow. He made his footsteps a bit louder, and he saw her stop working. Her body tensed like it'd done when she'd been touched. She clutched the sides of her dress, fiddling with them nervously.

"Rose?" he called her.

She sighed in relief, turning to face him, "Mr. Shelby…You startled me."

She seemed so innocent. He had an urge to hold her. "Shipment came in then?"

"Oh yes," she laughed nervously as if she'd just noticed the barrels of beer and crates of liquors, "They came during the night, and I thought I'd get a head start."

"In the middle of the night?"

"I-I couldn't sleep," she said.

"And the workers didn't bother loading it themselves?"

"I suppose not," she shrugged. "They'd just left it there in the open. I figured it wouldn't be good to leave them out. Someone might take them."

"Nobody would take them," he said, blowing a steady stream of smoke past his lips.

"Why?"

"Because they know this pub belongs to the Peaky Blinders," he explained. "Harry does the inventory and gives us a copy of it. If anything goes missing, we start asking questions."

"Oh…Well, it gave me something to do," she said. "There isn't much upstairs."

"I would imagine a woman on the run doesn't have much with her," he said, coming forward.

She took a step back when he reached her. He flung his cigarette away and came even closer. "I-I-I don't know what you mean," she said.

"I mean these," he took one of her wrists gently, unbuttoned her cuff and pulled back the sleeve. "Handcuffs. The only way you would've gotten these was from handcuffs." He let go of her. She immediately buttoned the sleeve back up, holding it close to her chest as if he'd take it again. "I don't see you as an escaped prisoner, so how'd you get them?"

"H-h-how do-do you know I'm not?" she said, not looking at him directly. "I could've escaped from prison."

He gave a quick laugh, "Trust me. You're not."

"Why's it any of your bus-business? Why do you even care?" she asked.

"Because my brother's falling for you," he said, "And we don't know a damned thing about you."

"So? If he wants to know, then he can ask me himself. Not you."

"Because Arthur isn't interested in questions. He'll fall for this idea he has of you, and when he finds out it's the exact opposite, he'll be heartbroken. That's the last thing I need." He stared her down, "And I don't like liars. So tell me: Where did you get them from?"

"Where I got them and how I got them are none of your business," she snapped. "You don't scare me, _Mr. Shelby._ " She turned on her heel and walked back into The Garrison, locking the door loudly behind her.

Her sudden defensiveness made him wonder even more. The fire in her eyes intrigued him. He continued on his walk back home, all the time considering the little lady with the big secrets.

* * *

Who did he think he was? Honestly? She was almost angry at him. She'd managed keeping her secret from him, but she felt he might learn the truth soon enough. Tommy was clearly nothing like his brothers. She'd heed caution the next time she saw him. This had been the last thing Rose wanted for her new life: A brother who flirted with her whenever he laid eyes on her, a brother who couldn't keep his hands to himself, and a brother who asked too many questions. She'd only been in Birmingham a week or so and already she'd attracted the attention of people she should avoid. Nobody else minded the barmaid in The Garrison, so why did they? Why couldn't the whole bloody lot of them leave her alone?

Watching him in the window, she saw him leave. He said he asked for Arthur. He didn't want her hurting his brother. It sounded admirable, and perhaps even sincere. But why would he think Rose would hurt Arthur? She wanted nothing with Arthur regardless of what they believed. She didn't want any of them. She longed for loneliness. She felt safer in her own company. Rose immediately thought about packing her suitcase and running off to the next town. She couldn't very well stay around such people.

She left the storage room and walked towards her apartment upstairs. She spotted her suitcase still beneath the bed. She could leave now. She could travel to the next town over and start anew there. She would give herself a new name this time; get a job in a different place. Surely, Rose wouldn't attract anyone there. However, something stopped her from taking the suitcase. Looking about the room, she'd begun liking her little flat above the pub. Despite its disrepair and flaws, she found it comfortable. The room now dust-free, she no longer sneezed whilst walking inside. The cobwebs that once decorated the corners were now gone, and the furniture shined like new. She finally figured out using the stove without burning the entire building, and the dresser didn't rock anymore after she shoved a thick book underneath the broken leg. The place was mildly liveable. The bathtub's grimy stains and rusted faucet would be her goal for the night.

She set to work with her bucket and scrubbing brush. As she brushed at the brown and green stains of the tub, she thought about the middle Shelby brother. He was no doubt handsome with his lean frame, deep voice and high cheekbones. He dressed well and kept his hair neat; he appeared intelligent even. Tommy Shelby, she hated confessing, had been the sort of man she'd dreamed of as a young girl. He'd fought in France, so he must've been a soldier. Making little progress on a rust stain, she imagined him in a strapping soldier's uniform, asking her for a dance at some big, luxurious party. He'd be sweet and romantic. He'd make her laugh. He'd treat her like a real lady.

Although, Tommy proved he wanted nothing to do with her. She was glad for that much as the feeling was mutual. She scrubbed for a while before calling the task futile. Rose set the brush back in the bucket and decided she should get some rest. Maybe tomorrow will go better.

* * *

The next few days went by without a sign of Tommy. She did see more of Arthur, who's head injury did nothing to curb his lusty suggestions. In fact, they got worse. Because of the kindness he'd done her for the tablets, Rose took his flirtations. He also touched her more often. His hands never fell anywhere inappropriate, but they would get close enough.

"…And so I said to him, I said, 'Look, I get what you're telling me but if I drop this here crate, you'll get me on destruction of property too!' and he just looked at me!"

All the men laughed at Arthur's story as she entered the private room. Holding a pail of beer, none of them took much notice of her refilling their mugs. Arthur looked her way at once and smiled at her. She returned the smile, taking his mug from in front of him.

"There she is," he said, his hand finding the small of her back when she stood beside him, "The only thing worth looking at in this place anymore."

"I'll drink to that," one of the men said, raising his glass and taking a gulp.

"How has my pretty Rose been, eh? Good, I would hope?" he asked.

"I've been fine, Arthur," she replied. "How is your head?"

"Better," he said. "The headaches finally stopped."

"Those bloody coppers," a man there cursed, "We should teach them a lesson they wouldn't forget, eh Arthur?" The group agreed with him.

"Ah, not yet boys," he said. "Not without Tommy's say-so. You all know how he is." He turned back to Rose," You know, it was Rose that fixed my head."

They all seemed surprised. He nodded at their questioning facing, "Yep. Girl is an expert with a thread and needle. She would've made a cute little nurse in France, don't you think?"

The boys all chuckled, their eyes fixing on her now. Her stomach twisted seeing the meaning in these looks. She tried laughing with them, but found only a struggle chuckle coming out. "Me? A nurse? No. I would've been dreadful as a nurse."

"Dunno," he said, "You stitched me pretty good. You're better than my sister anyways. Come on, sit with us for a bit. You could use a break from all that work outside."

"Arthur, I-I-I don't think that's such a good idea," she said, feeling her knees get weak and her hands become clammy. She hid the symptoms well, but she couldn't shake them off. "Harry needs me-"

"-Harry was running this bar for years with no help," he said, "I'm sure he can manage it alone for a few minutes. Here," Arthur immediately grabbed her hand and pulled her into his lap. The mixture of aftershave and booze reached her nose. She hated it. She instantly felt disgusted by him. It was HIM all over again. Her mind screamed for her to push him away but her body wouldn't move. "There," he sighed, "That's better." Even how he pushed hair from her face made her shudder. Arthur didn't see this…or maybe he didn't care? "Now, how'd you get that, love?" His finger traced over the hairline scar, and she flinched away.

"Nowhere," she said, moving some hair back over it, "It's not important."

"Ah well that's not fair, is it?" his hand found her thigh. His full hand. He rested it in the middle and his thumb rubbed her skin through her dress. "You know how I got mine. It's only fair I know how you got yours. I'm sure there's a story behind that scar."

"It was an accident," she lied. "I fell out of a tree in the backyard and landed on my head." It's worked on the nurses at the hospital, so surely it'd work on a bunch of men in a pub. "It's not as terrible as it sounded. I wasn't in hospital long."

All she could really focus on was Arthur's hand on her thigh. It inched up a little further. How could he? In front of all these men in such a public place? They'd all move back into conversation among themselves, but she could feel them watching still. It made her stomach feel even worse. "Still doesn't take away from that pretty face of yours," he said, his other hand guiding her chin so she faced him. His eyes weren't like Tommy's. They were still water; not ice. "How about I take you to the pictures tonight? It'd be just you and me," his voice dropped to a whisper, "Nobody would see the things I'd do to you in the dark, love." His hand made straight for her center suddenly and she put her hands in front of it just in time.

"Arthur, wait-"

"-Arthur," a stern voice caught the attention of the room. Arthur stopped and looked over at the door. Tommy stood in the doorway, cigarette between his lips and a disapproving expression on his face. All conversation ceased and she felt the men all tense up at the sight of him. "Rose is needed at the bar," he said. His eyes fell on her. His eyes softened slightly, if only slightly. "Go on, Rose."

She didn't need to be told twice. Rose took the pail from the table and left the room. She made for the bar, and set the pail under the counter. Harry looked over at her, worry etched on his face.

"You alright? They didn't hurt you, did they?" he asked under the noise of the bar.

She shook her head. The hand he placed in the middle of her back felt comforting. "Listen, if he ever…if he does anything you don't like, you tell me."

"What happened to nobody stopping them from getting what they want?" she asked.

"This is different," he said. "I ain't gonna let him come in here and treat you like some cheap whore. You're a lady. He…It doesn't matter who he is, alright? It's the principle of the thing." He gave her back a final rub and then said, "You can go change the barrel. Get out of this stuffy air for a bit."

"Thank you," she said before going into the back room.

In the muffled silence, she let out a shaky breath. His hand left a warm spot on her thigh and she hands shaking. She tried getting the smell of him out of her nose. She didn't want to remember anything. She didn't want HIM in her head. Rose pressed herself against the stack of barrels and tried holding back the tears in her eyes. She didn't want visions of HIM touching her. She didn't want his hot breath or calloused hands or his slimey tongue. He'd only ever done it once, but that's all it'd taken for her.

"Rose?" Tommy's voice came from behind the door with a soft knock. She didn't answer the door. She stayed against the barrels. "Rose, I know you're in there." She stayed silent, so he opened the door anyways.

His eyes met hers. She felt so foolish around him. He had a stare that brought a blush to her cheeks, and made her feel small. She hated it.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she said.

"When will you learn that you shouldn't lie to me?" he sighed. He moved a few steps closer. "He won't be touching you like that again. You have my word."

"Thank you," she hoped he'd leave now. Of course, he did not.

"Now, I'll ask again," he said, closing the distance between them, "and this time you'll be honest with me: Are you alright?"

She shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks without her permission. She looked away from him so he wouldn't see them. He came closer, leaving only a few inches between his body and hers. Already she smelled the soft lingering of aftershave, cigarettes and cologne. His thumb wiped at the tears under her eyes; his hand tenderly cupped her cheek. It felt odd having him touch her so gently. She glimpsed up at him. His hardness had melted, revealing this softness she didn't know existed. She sniffled. Rose didn't mind when he pulled her to him. Her head landed close to his chest where she heard the faint thumping of his heart.

"The next time he lays his hands on you," he whispered to her, "You tell Harry and Harry will tell me."

"Why do you care?" she asked.

"Because you're a lady," he said. "If he wants someone to grope, he can find them in the street."

Tommy then released her. She saw his coldness immediately return. He gave an awkward cough, fixing his hair, and straightened himself up. "A bottle of whiskey, now," he said before turning and leaving her alone.

A lady? He thought she was a lady? Despite his comfort, she found it difficult to believe.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hey guys! Sorry for the span of time between updates. Like I said before, these late-night shifts have been killing me and I'm too tired to write when I want to lol I'm glad everyone's really liking Rosie. I wanted something more light-hearted (in a way) because Suspicion is gonna get sooo much heavier than it is now. Speaking of Suspicion, I know it's been on a sort of hiatus cause I've hit a block when it comes to that story, but I'll be writing getting back on track with that asap. :)**

* * *

 _She struggled against him, but he was too heavy. All those years of military service made him muscular and hard. He forced her down, pushing her face away from him as she heard the ripping of fabric. She cried. She screamed for someone. Anyone. Her heart beat thumped louder and pounded in her ears. All sound fell silent. The world was dark with only the light from the door shining on her mattress._

" _Just like your Mum," he muttered in his slurred speech._

 _She begged him to stop. Then he breached…._

"NO!" she screamed out into the bedroom.

She panted, almost delirious for a second before realizing where she was. Beads of sweat covered her forehead and upper lip, and her throat felt dry. The sweat on her back nearly soaked through her night dress, covering most of her body. She could still feel him on her. She heard him in her ears. The vividness of her dream made her skin crawl and stomach churn. She thought she might vomit again. She burst into tears. The dread fell over her. Rose would never be rid of him, she realized. No matter where she went, what story she spun or who she met, her father was a ghost she'd never escape. She'd always be his prisoner.

"Rose? You alright?" Harry came through, looking about the room as if somebody were there. "I heard you screaming."

"I'm-I'm fine, Harry," she sniffled, wiping her eyes with her blanket.

"No you're not," he said, coming to the bed. "You're sweating bullets and you've been crying. Bad dream?" She could only nod, drawing her knees to keep herself from trembling. "Ah, it was just a dream. Nothing more than that," he said, pulling her close and wrapping his arms around her. "You're fine. You're fine, love."

She let him hold her for what felt like hours. Once her tears ceased, she asked, "Why are you so nice to me?"

"What do you mean?"

"Men are only nice when they want something," she sniffled, pulling away from him slowly, "But you don't want anything from me. So, why are you nice?"

"Because, despite what you may think, Rose," he said, "There are still a few decent men in the world."

They shared a small smile. "Well, I'm glad I ran into one of them."

He gave a soft laugh, "You remind me of someone."

"Who?"

"My girl, Abigail. She moved to London a while ago, but she comes home every once in a while," he said. "She was the shy, quiet type too; the kind that attract men like Arthur."

"Did he ever…?"

"No, he never did anything with her," he shook his head. "He just flirted occasionally. She made it clear from the beginning that she had no interest in him, but that had been before the war. I think he came onto you because you let him. He sort of…pushes boundaries. He's used to women letting him have his way; usually because she's already paid them for the time." He then said, "But after today, I don't think he'll be bothering you anymore. At least, not in that way."

"Why?"

"Tommy and he had a shouting match in the room when you left," he said. "Something about Tommy getting in the way and Tommy telling him you weren't a whore he could pay for. Then Arthur said Tommy was jealous that you liked him instead of Tommy, and of course Tommy told him that wasn't true, but Arthur didn't believe him. They…It got pretty heated until Tommy left." He shook his head, laughing softly, "Girl, I don't know what you did but you got those brothers at each other's throats fighting for you."

"I don't want them fighting over me," she said. "I don't want anyone fighting. I didn't mean to make them like me. I don't know what I did, but I wished they'd just…go away."

"I know that," he said, "But they don't…Tommy will make sure he doesn't do anything you don't want him to. I can promise you that much. Tommy gets things done, and he's a man of his word." Harry then looked to the rest of her. She felt his eyes scanning the marks on her skin. She looked away from him, red tinging her cheeks. "He's a bastard."

"Sorry?" she asked.

"The bloke that did this to you," he gestured to her scars. "He's a bloody bastard and he's gonna get his one day. Any man who hurts a woman isn't a man."

She smiled at him.

"You get some sleep," he said, patting her knee, "I'll be down in storage if you need me."

She watched him leave the room. All the worry inside her vanished in the wake of his kindness.

* * *

Her eyes. They'd been two jade stones gleaming at him from piles of gold. He couldn't get them out of his head even as he tried reading the racing papers in front of him. The headline read: 'Monaghan Boy steals first again!'. The article detailed the wins and the chances of winning again. He should be happy his plan had worked, but he couldn't care any less at the moment. Sipping a bit of whiskey he'd stolen from Arthur's desk, he sat quietly in the betting shop and contemplated the events of yesterday afternoon.

Arthur raged up a storm when Tommy foiled his plans of getting Rose alone. He said exactly what Tommy had expected.

' _You're just pissed I got to her first! You're jealous that she likes me best!'_

' _You want her for yourself!'_

He sounded childish. It'd been like the time Tommy stopped him from pickpocketing a cop. In those days, Arthur would claim Tommy didn't want anyone showing him up, so he kept them from doing it. Obviously, this wasn't true in the slightest, but it made Arthur feel better so Tommy let him think as such. Tommy couldn't believe his brother was so oblivious. The woman clearly wanted nothing with him, least of all sex. He'd told him so, and this only enraged Arthur more. Arthur claimed she only needed a bit of warming up and soon she'd be begging him to take her. Tommy said the odds of that happening were incredibly low, especially considering how she reacted to his hands. Arthur said Tommy didn't know anything about women and he was misreading the signs. Tommy read the signs perfectly. Rose had been disgusted and almost afraid being in his lap. He thought Arthur was better than this, being the oldest of them all, but he disappointed Tommy.

Or perhaps he was jealous after all. Oh, she'd felt so perfect in his arms. She fit like a glove. Seeing her standing in the back room, feeling ashamed in front of him, he couldn't stop his heart from sinking. Her skin was soft against his hand, and her supple lips tempted him. He could've kissed her, he thought. Tommy might have even _wanted_ to kiss her. The thought of her lips brushing against his as he held her brought out a warmth he hadn't felt in a long time. Yet, he didn't think it was the right time. He doubted she would've wanted him kissing her when she was so tearful and embarrassed. Tommy had even been worried about touching her. He intended on keeping his promise to her. No man would ever touch her again without her permission.

' _Fine!'_ Arthur shouted after him, _'Have the fucking girl if you want her so badly Bloody bastard! Can't let anyone have anything, can you?'_

He'd never loved her. Tommy should've known better. To Arthur, Rose was another conquest; another notch on his belt. She'd been a 'thing', not a woman. She deserved better.

A knock on the door took him from the back of his mind. He groaned, running a hand through his hair before fixing it. He hoped it wasn't Arthur coming to glare and snap at him some more.

"It's open!" he called out, leaning back in his chair.

In walked Johnny Doggs. The short, scruffy man grinned at him upon his entry. Tommy stood and met him at the table.

"Johnny," they shook hands.

"Tommy, how are ya?" Johnny asked him.

"Been better," he grumbled. Rose still danced around in his head. He wished she'd go away.

Johnny chuckled, "I heard you've been more than just better."

Tommy stared, "What do you mean?"

"I heard you finally got yourself a woman," he smirked, "That pretty barmaid down at The Garrison. I walked in there for a drink and I have to say, Tommy, you hooked yourself a nice one."

"She's not my woman," he said to him firmly.

"That's not what I heard," he said. "I heard you and Arthur fought over her too. I don't blame either of you one bit. I bet you had to beat off Arthur with a damn stick," he chuckled.

It'd be like Johnny to hear such things. A man like himself moved around often, which was obvious from his travel worn boots and dusty jacket. Tommy sighed, "What brings you to the city, Johnny?"

Johnny's teasing smile faded slightly. The last thing Tommy wanted to talk about was Rose. "I got one for you I think you'll like," he said.

Tommy hesitated, "A horse, you mean?"

"Aye. A fine one too, strong and fast."

"I'll need to see it first before I say 'yes'," he told him.

"Well of course you'll need to see it," he replied. "You'd be mad taking it without seeing. I'm running with the Lee family outside at The Fair. You can come by in a week and see it when they got everything set up."

"The Lees?" The name alone made his blood boil slightly. "I'd sooner live amongst pigs than travel with those scum."

"They needed a middle man for trading purposes," he shrugged, "And I work for cheap. So the horse, Tommy?"

He thought for a moment, and then said, "Sure. I'll come by there in a week and see the horse. The usual payment, I suppose?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Two up. What's your trade?"

"If you win, I pay full price for the horse," he said, "And if I win, I get the horse free of charge. I'll even let you have a spin in the family car."

The losing deal made Johnny's face light up. Not many country folk like Johnny saw cars, and when they did, they certainly didn't drive them. "Deal," he said. The two men spat in their palms and shook on the deal. The thought of a new racing horse pushed Rose from his mind, if only faintly.

"See ya in a week, Tommy," Johnny said as he left. "Keep an eye on that girl of yours, eh? You just might lose her to me."

Tommy gave an amused grin, "Right. As if she'd go for a war-shy craven like yourself."

"War-shy or not, I can be bloody charming when I want," he said quite proudly before taking his leave.

The Lees were a gypsy family the Shelbys feuded with since their grandad's days. Going to see this horse might prove profitable in more ways than one. The Lees might'v been lacking intelligence, but they possessed the strength and numbers Tommy didn't have. Unfortunately, they'd have to war before they can have peace.

He sat back down in his seat, Rose returning to him quite quickly. He thought back on what Johnny told him.

' _My woman?'_ he questioned. _'Is that what they're saying at The Garrison now? No. Rose isn't mine. She'd never want to be either.'_

Oh, but she could be if she wished. Tommy didn't think he'd resist if she asked him. With her doe eyes and soft voice, he would never refuse her anything.

* * *

Tommy's promise rung true in more ways than one. Arthur kept up his casual flirtations every so often, but he never touched her. In fact, neither did John or any other man in the pub. She noticed some of them didn't even look at her, and others avoided her when they approached the bar. She sort of enjoyed this new treatment. Nobody bothered her anymore. She felt invisible, which was nice. Harry seemed pleased as well.

"Now you can concentrate on working," he said when he turned his back on her.

"Are you sure that's the only reason?" she teased as he put money in the till.

"It is," he nodded. "You're a good…good worker. I can't afford you getting distracted when we have loads of customers in here."

She grinned hearing his excuse. This sudden protectiveness Harry had felt relieving rather than worrying. She went back to work wiping droplets off the bar when she walked in. A lot of the men looked the other way from her as well, not daring a stare longer than a second at the Shelby sister. Ada looked lovely in her peach dress and matching cream colored coat trimmed in velvet. The bright colors brought light to the bar and radiated around her. She reminded Rose of one of those pretty-faced picture stars. She took a few steps into the pub before glancing around the crowd. Her eyes scanned the Garrison before they landed on Rose. A smile lit up her ivory face immediately.

"Rose!" she reached the bar, purse hanging from her arm, "I knew I'd find you here."

"Hi Ada," she said. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, I have a date tonight and sadly I've hit a wall," she responded.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean everything I have is worn out and old, so I was going to the dress shop around the corner for a new dress," she said. "And I thought I could use a second opinion on what I should get."

"But wouldn't your aunt be more-"

"-She doesn't know about my date so I can't ask her," she said with a hint of mischief. "Please," she pleaded sweetly, "Please come. I think it'd be nice for us to bond, you know, since you're going to be one of us one day."

"What?" Rose stopped wiping, "What does that mean?"

Ada smiled, "You have no clue, do you? Aw, that's adorable."

"Have no clue about what?"

"Let's just say one of my brothers is falling for you and he's too damn stubborn to admit it," Ada said nonchalantly, "So, I'll see you in an hour? Give you time to spruce yourself up?"

"Um…" she looked over at Harry who nodded, "Sure. Yes, that'd be nice."

Ada beamed, "Great! See you soon!"

Harry came to her side when Ada left. He patted her shoulder and said, "Going out might be good for you. It'll get you out of this place for a while."

"I guess," she said. "What did she mean by I'd be one of them?"

Harry tensed up at her question. He let go of her and turned back to the bar. "Harry…" she said, "What did she mean by that? Tell me, please?"

Harry sighed, pouring out another pint of beer from the tap, "You have to understand something, Rose: It's all just talk. Chatter, you know, rumors? It doesn't really mean anything cause it ain't true."

"What's not true?"

"Haven't you noticed none of the men are flirting or talking to you like before? Some won't even so much as stare for too long?"

"Yes, of course I have."

"And that Arthur isn't touching you or flirting with you? And John hasn't been flirting with you?"

"I did notice it," she nodded.

"And who is the only person in this town who can make people listen to him without having to say anything? Who scares people around here?"

"Tommy," she answered.

"Exactly. That arugment between he and Arthur had been pretty loud; the entire pub heard every word spoken. Word travels fast in Small Heath," he said. "Nobody's going near you because they think you're Tommy's now."

The irritation instantly hit her. "I don't want to be Tommy's!" she nearly shouted, catching some bystanders' attention.

Harry hushed her and whispered, "I know you don't, love, but that's the way it is around here. You're his whether he planned on that or not."

"I'm not his," she said. "I don't belong to anyone. I'm nobody's property."

The thought of belonging to someone again made her sick. She wouldn't be chained up and left in the basement like a dog or forced to be with a man who was colder than ice. She didn't care how comforting he'd been the other day; that did not make her his girlfriend or his possession or his whatever in any way. Harry saw this struggle within her and rubbed her arm.

"Listen, it's all just talk," he said, "I wouldn't get too worked up about it anyways. Tommy hasn't wanted anyone since France. Go upstairs and fix yourself up for Ms. Shelby. I can handle the bar."

She inhaled deeply, and then exhaled the stress out of her system. She thanked Harry and walked upstairs to her flat. Rose began looking through her things for something suitable, but she had no real idea what would be good. She'd never really dressed for anything. Yet, despite the nerves bundling in her stomach, she couldn't shake the thought of Tommy from her mind. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. He had no right to claim her. She wasn't another one of his damned horses or a piece of furniture. She was a person. It took her five years to realize this; it took her five years to feel real freedom and thirst for more. She wouldn't let him-or anyone-take that away from her.


	6. Chapter 6

She met Ada outside the pub. She'd hidden her scars well enough with her hair fixed in the right place and her clothes covering the parts seen by others. Rose worried she might not look nice enough for her shopping excursion. Her clothes seemed so plain in comparison to Ada's dress and coat. She knew she should've worn something different, a little showier than most of what she wore. Yet, when she'd looked in her mirror, she could only worry about what others might catch: the hairline scar, the burned ear, the dots in the back of her neck, the scar on her right leg, and most of all her wrists. Yes, the lines were fine on some, but others stood out clear as day. She hated them. She hated him for giving them to her. They made her ugly.

"There you are," Ada smiled as Rose approached. "I was starting to wonder if Harry was keeping you hostage," she giggled.

"No, he wouldn't do that," she said. "He told me going out would be good for me. I haven't really had a chance to look around since I arrived."

"Then let me be the first to show you around," she replied. She linked her arm with Rose's as if they were old friends rather than near strangers. "There isn't much to this place, but it has some good points. Like that shop there," Ada pointed to a jewelry shop near them, "It's the best one around because it's got real jewelry. And there's the picture cinema. It's the only one in Small Heath so everybody usually goes to this one."

As they walked, Ada showed her more places and even accompanied them with stories. Rose found it nice that somebody had so many fond memories. Hers stretched quite thin and were only blurred fragments of days long gone. Ada told her about the time she'd been kicked out of a church first-aid class for giggling, and the time Tommy saved her cat from being trampled by a horse. She talked about times shopping with Aunt Polly and about her mother. She listened intently to all the stories, envisioning them in her mind.

Being around the sights and sounds of the city lifted her spirits. Rose remembered the first time she'd ever left her home. She spent five years going to the market every morning just because she could and buying groceries when she didn't really need them. She'd walk home in the bright sun and cool breeze to an empty house. She'd take care of the chickens and sell them at whatever price she saw fit. Rose never thought freedom could come so easily in those days. Five years of no fear, no worry, and no pain. She hoped she'd have that freedom again in this new life.

Yet, even as they walked, she found herself looking about the streets. He stayed in the back of her mind regardless of the company. She imagined him marching through the street, bald-headed, mean-faced, and determined. He never walked. He stalked. He was a vicious hound dog that would sniff her out easily. She could already feel him breathing down her neck. The sensation shook her slightly.

"Oh the fair is back!" Ada said, walking towards a poster on the side of a building.

Rose examined the poster, seeing the bright colors faded already by the weather, and realized it advertised the local fair.

"Have you ever been?" Ada asked.

"No," Rose shook her head, "My father never liked fairs."

"We should go soon," she then said. "It would be so much fun. The boys are going next week but they said it was for 'men's business'," she scoffed, "Men's business. I bet you Tommy's just buying another stupid horse."

"So, Tommy likes horses then?"

Ada turned her head at the question, grinning knowingly, "He does. He's always loved them. Before the war, he talked about working with them…Ha, could you imagine my brother shoveling shit in a stable now? It seems like a joke."

"What does he buy them for? Does he ride them?"

"Sometimes, but only to bring them to the stables. He buys them to race them at the tracks," Ada said as they moved along the street. "The family gets whatever money the horse makes because Tommy is the owner."

"Sounds interesting," she said.

The first time she'd seen him had been on a horse. It only made sense he liked them. She remembered seeing him atop the dark horse. He looked like a king riding through his kingdom; a king who stopped for a little peasant like herself.

"I suppose," Ada said as they continued walking down the street. "If you asked, he'd take you to see them."

"See what? The horses, you mean?"

Ada nodded, "By the way he looks at you, I don't think he'd refuse you anything. It's kinda sweet."

"I doubt that," she said. "Your brother's made it clear that he's not interested in me that way."

"So you're saying you're upset that he doesn't?" Ada teased.

"No," Rose said, "I'm saying that he doesn't like me. I don't think he likes anyone, if I can be honest. He seems…"

"Cold? Mean? Grumpy, even?"

"No," she shook her head, "Distant. It's as if he has this wall built around him or this suit of armor that keeps other people out. He doesn't talk to many people when he comes into the pub and he certainly doesn't show warmth to me…"

She thought about how he'd held her in the privacy of the back room. He'd wiped her tears and touched her gently. He spoke softly to her and promised her nobody would ever touch her again. But, in almost a flash, he sunk back into his armor. His own vulnerability unnerved him. Perhaps the feeling had become a stranger to him. He hadn't wanted others seeing this break in his cool, collected demeanor. He only shared it with her.

"He hasn't been the same since France," Ada said. "He doesn't smile as much as before, and he does keep to himself more. He thinks nobody notices and that we should just accept it. It's as if the war took his heart and spat it back out, you know?" She gave her a sideways glance, "But I think somebody could help him bring it back, don't you?"

"I suppose," she shrugged. "If you can find someone willing."

The seamstress smiled at them both as they entered the dress shop. Ada greeted her with cheek kisses and pleasant conversation. Rose looked about the place, seeing dresses already made on display above half-shelves of shoes and a long counter at the front of the room. Large spools of different fabrics lined the wall behind the counter, and little baskets of accents and beads sat inside the large display case. She immediately began imagining all kinds of dresses as Ada spoke with the seamstress who ran the shop.

"…I have your dresses right here, Ms. Shelby," the middle-aged woman said as she moved towards a back room, "They came out absolutely gorgeous! You're going to love them!"

Ada came to Rose's side, "I get all my dresses here. Carol is the best dressmaker in town if I can be honest." She examined Rose and then the fabrics before them, "You would look amazing in blue…like a dark blue…midnight blue with little beading around the chest."

"Rhinestones," Rose added when she spotted them, "So it looks like stars."

"Yes!" Ada beamed, "That'd be lovely. It could be satin with a net overlay. We could make it periwinkle instead. It's airier and lighter."

"What about peach?" she asked. "A bit warmer and bright, but not too hard on the eyes?"

"Maybe. I don't see you in peach, but blue I definitely see. It's his favorite color."

"Who's favorite-"

"-Here they are!" Carol came back into the room, holding both dresses from hangers.

Ada gasped. One dress was cream with red beading depicting roses along the bottom, and the other was plum colored with black instead. They were both magnificently done and tailored to Ada's size. She touched each one, grinning from ear to ear, "Oh Carol! They're beautiful! I love them. What do you think, Rose?"

"They look marvelous," Rose said.

"You can go try them on in the fitting room," Carol told her, gesturing towards a nearby room, "And see if they fit right. If not, I can always take them in."

"Perfect," she said. She took both dresses, and then said, "We should get you a dress, Rose. Every woman should have at least one. Don't you agree, Carol?"

"Of course," she nodded.

Rose shook her head, "Oh no, Ada, that's…That's not necessary."

"Don't be silly. Of course it is," she said. "What are you gonna do if you get asked out on date and you have nothing to wear?"

"Nobody would ever ask me out anywhere. I don't even have the money for it now anyways."

"Well, I'd pay for it obviously," Ada said as she made her way to the fitting room. "Carol can take your measurements and tell her about our dress."

She vanished behind the fitting room curtain. Carol grabbed a measuring tape from the counter, "So, what dress are we looking for today, darling?"

Rose told her about the dress she and Ada talked about. Carol instructed her onto a small stool so she could measure her from her knees to her head, and then side to side. Carol kept up the pleasantries, complimenting her figure and how gorgeous she'll be in her dress, until she stopped at her wrist. Rose instantly felt her eyes fix on the scars there. Rose couldn't keep the blush from her cheeks.

"I'm assuming you want it long sleeved?" Carol asked, avoiding the scars now and standing stiffly. "I don't think you want anyone seeing those-"

"-No," a stern voice came from the other side of the small shop. Ada stood in the doorway of the fitting room wearing the first dress, eyes narrowed on Carol, "It'll be short sleeved." There was a sort of challenge in Ada's voice.

Carol coughed nervously, "Yes, of course. I was only suggesting that she cover them. Men can be so picky."

"She's not buying it for a man," Ada said, coming over to them, "She's buying it because pretty girls like pretty dresses. Don't they, Rose?" Rose only nodded. "See? Now, get out the fabrics so we can see how they'll look together."

"Yes, Ms. Shelby."

Carol bowed her head and went towards the counter. Ada then addressed Rose, "I'm sorry about her. Carol can be so snobby sometimes."

"It's okay."

"No it's not," Ada said, "She had no right pointing them out like that, especially when you're so self-conscious about them." She pulled Rose's sleeve back over her wrists and buttoned them. "I happen to think they're interesting. I'm sure there's a story behind them and I know you'll share when you're ready."

"Thank you…The dress is beautiful on you," Rose then said to change subject.

Ada stared at her a second, softening at her words, "Doesn't it? I love it. Do you think Freddie will like it?"

"Freddie?"

"Yeah, Freddie Thorne," Ada moved towards a lengthwise mirror nearest them, "I've been seeing him for a while now, but it's all very secret right now."

"Why is it a secret?"

"Oh because my brothers wouldn't approve of it. They don't like me dating anyone, so nobody ever asks me," she said. "Plus, Freddie is one of those anarchists that have been making speeches and passing out books in the BSA factory. The police don't like his kind very much and Tommy said he didn't want me getting mixed up in that."

"Doesn't sound like you took his advice anyways," Rose said.

Ada smirked, "Why would I? It's my life, not his. He always tries to control everything. He can't control me." She paused, "Yes, I think I'll wear this one tonight. It's so much nicer."

* * *

Ada insisted they go to the Shelby house for tea. She and Ada had spent a good amount of time in Carol's shop, picking out fabrics and gems for Rose's new dress. She felt excited about the prospect of such nice things. Rose knew the dress would go unused, but it'd be nice to own one. Afterwards, the two girls continued on their walk around town for a short while before turning onto Watery Lane. Rose had felt comfortable around the Shelby sister until she announced they'd be having tea at her home…where Arthur might be…where Tommy might be…The thought of either them made her stomach churn.

Polly had been sitting in the lounge when they arrived, a book in her lap and reading glasses on the bridge of his nose. She looked up at the sight of them stopping in the doorway. She smiled when she spotted Rose behind Ada.

"Rose," she said, standing from her seat, "Good to see you. This is a surprise."

"Hello Polly," she returned.

"I brought her for tea," Ada informed her aunt. "We went to Carol's for my dresses and we had one ordered up for Rose." She put the bag down and pulled out her chosen dress, "She's going to look wonderful in it." She lifted up her dress for Polly to see.

"They're beautiful. Anything you wear would be gorgeous on you," Polly told her. She looked on Rose, and her brow furrowed slightly, "When was the last time you ate, girl? You look a bit peaky."

"This morning," Rose said. "M-My stove isn't exactly the best, so I can't use it too long otherwise I might burn the pub down." She'd considered looking for a new one, but she didn't have the wages for it. "It's alright though. Thankfully there's a hearth."

"A hearth? Using a fireplace like some sort of peasant?" Polly's words weren't snobbish or degrading. In fact, she sounded affronted by the news. "Oh that won't do. I know a man who sells them cheap. I'll get Tommy to pitch in for it. Lord knows he won't say 'no'."

"What makes you think that?" Rose asked.

She paused, and then said, "It's sweet. You're so clueless about it." She gave a soft chuckle, "Ada can brew the tea and I'll make lunch."

She followed them into a kitchen area, where Ada grabbed a kettle from a cabinet. "Is this because people think I'm his now or something?"

"Absolutely," Polly answered as she grabbed sandwich ingredients from an icebox. "He's interested in you. He's just too stubborn to admit it or say it out loud."

"Oh, he's not…He wouldn't…I'm not his type," Rose said, taking a seat at a small table.

"I think you are," Ada said, putting the kettle to boil on the stove top. "He'd always liked the shy ones. I don't know why. He was never shy himself."

"Before France anyways," Polly said. She began cutting the sandwiches she'd made into triangles, "He'd been so wild before then. Always laughing and smiling; always eager to run off to wherever he needed to go. I think that's why he liked riding horses so much. When he came home, he was different. Quieter. Reserved."

"And meaner," Ada added.

She took a seat at the table and Polly soon followed with serving plates and her dish. Once the tea finished boiling, Ada added biscuits and the women dined together.

"What happened to him there?" Rose asked, biting into a sandwich.

"We don't know," Polly answered. "He won't say."

"They gave him medals," Ada told her, "For some battles he'd been in where he showed valor or something."

"He took a bullet for one of his commanding officers," Polly explained. "They gave him a medal for his courage and appointed him Sergeant Major for it; the highest rank they could give him."

Rose looked about the room as if she'd see one, "Where does he keep them?"

"He threw them in the cut when he returned," Polly said. "He never told me why. He just did it. I would refrain from asking him any more about it if I were you. It's a sensitive topic for him, like for many of them."

"Not all of them." When they looked at her puzzled, she said, "My father always talked about his service. He hung up his medals on the wall above our fireplace. He would talk about them to anybody that listened."

"Your father had been in France?" Ada asked, dunking a biscuit into her tea.

Rose nodded. "He'd been serving in the army most of his life. His father and grandfather before him had done the same thing. He'd been a Major when the war started. It wasn't even necessary for him to go to war, but he insisted upon going. He said his country needed him and he wouldn't disappoint."

"So, I imagine you were alone for all that time?" Polly asked, sipping her tea.

"I was, but it wasn't awful or anything," she said. She couldn't keep the grin off her face, "It felt…relaxing. I felt free when he left. I could go where I wanted and talk to who I wanted without him..." She stopped herself before she said more. "It was nice."

"I could imagine it was," Polly said, "It'd be very nice not having to live in constant fear."

Rose stared at her, "What do you mean?"

"Oh Rose, you don't have to hide it from us," she said. She came closer towards Rose, gently patting her hand, "It's just us women here. Nobody else would know."

"Know what?" Ada asked, looking between them confused.

"That her father was a drunken bastard that beat her," Polly said. "Is that who it was? Your father?"

Rose felt her stomach sink. She put down her sandwich, and looked away from Polly. "Yes," she said in a whisper. "It started after my mother died and it never stopped. He only grew worse. Him going to war was the best thing that ever happened to me."

"My dad wasn't much better either," Ada told her. "He walked out on our family before our mother died; not that any of us minded. He was a whore mongering bastard who gambled away our money all the time."

"He might've been that," Polly said, "But he only laid his hands on you when you'd been asking for it. Your mother and I would've killed him had it gone any further than a good slap."

"I know," Ada replied, "I'm only saying she's not alone. So, you ran from him then?"

"I did."

She recounted the story to them. She told them how she waited for him to sleep, and how she'd spent weeks chiseling away at the window. Rose wasn't sure why she told them so much. She supposed she felt comfortable enough. Men like Tommy and Arthur wouldn't understand because they'd never be victims. Polly and Ada knew and understood. They didn't ask for any details or explanations. They didn't try defending her father's actions. They even grinned when she mentioned she'd taken most of his money from the upstairs jar, which was how she'd paid for food.

"You're so brave," Ada said once she'd finished.

"No," Rose shook her head, "I'm not really. I just…wanted to leave…"

"And that's what makes you brave," Polly said. "Most women in your situation don't think of leaving or think of leaving but never do. Men act as if being brave means confronting your enemies or standing up for what is right, but it's not just that. You could have let the misery destroy you or could have ended up hating the world, but you didn't. You endured. You survived. You see light in everything and everyone. So don't let anyone tell you you're not brave, because you are."

"Yes, very brave," Ada agreed. "I've seen women who are so broken by their husbands. You didn't let him break you, and that means something."

Their words made her smile. "I personally would've killed him before I left if it'd been me," Ada then added, eating another biscuit.

"I co-couldn't," Rose admitted. "I mean, I thought about it once or twice, but I could never kill anyone or anything." She couldn't even kill the mouse in her apartment. She'd been leaving it food in the corner instead. "It's…It's not who I am."

"That's a good thing," Polly said. "Around here, it's even a bit refreshing."

"If you told Tommy what you told us," Ada then said, "I bet he'd find him and kill him for you."

"Ada," Polly warned.

"It's true," she said.

"He wouldn't go through all that trouble for me," Rose said. "He has better things to do, I'm sure."

"Oh I think you'd be surprised," Polly muttered.


	7. Chapter 7

A week came and along with it the fair. Everyone in town talked about the new attractions and the old ones. The Lee family could put on quite an event when they wished. Tommy himself hadn't been since France. Things like the fair didn't interest him anymore. He only went because Finn begged him and Polly thought it'd be good for them to get the city out of their lungs. It just so happened he had business nearby as well. Tommy drove down the country road, John and Finn in the back seat and Arthur in the front, and smoked his cigarette. The sun shined brighter in the country with no buildings or smoke concealing the skies, and the grass and trees were vibrant compared to grey stones and black mud. He could feel the soft breeze against his face, pure and fresh in his lungs. He found the surroundings relaxing, but unfortunately they also reminded him of Rose.

"I saw the new barmaid yesterday," Finn, the youngest of them, said.

"Did you? And what did you think?" John asked him.

"She's really pretty," he said, "She's just like how Arthur said she was."

Arthur and John chuckled, but Tommy ignored the conversation. Or well, he attempted anyways.

"She's pretty all right," John said, "I'd kill for a few minutes with her."

"Yeah, cause that's all you need, eh John?" Arthur joked.

Thankfully, the quarrel between Tommy and Arthur died as the week ended. Tommy had been thankful for this much. He'd grown tired of the constant snipes and glares Arthur gave whenever he entered a room. Tommy usually never said anything, but it sunk beneath his skin after a short while. The small feud ended when Polly told them that Rose deserved better than either of them; she deserved a man, not a child. This comment shamed both men into forgiving one another. Arthur still occasionally turned sour when Rose was brought up, but less so today. Tommy supposed the fair brought out this merry mood.

John lightly punched Arthur's shoulder as Finn laughed. Arthur then looked on Tommy, "It's sad to say that none of us are ever gonna have a go at her. She's Tommy's girl now. We'd be dead men if we touched her."

"She's not my girl," Tommy grumbled, a cigarette hanging between his lips.

"I'd take that chance," John laughed. "A woman like that is definitely worth it."

"You know she's our sister's age, right?" Arthur asked him. "She's nearly the same age as Ada."

"And?" Tommy asked, puffing a stream of smoke before sucking in more.

"And since when do you like younger women?"

This interrogation became part of Arthur's sourness. He'd try making Tommy feel guilty for liking Rose. Not that Tommy liked Rose in that sense. Arthur merely thought he did.

"I don't like her," he said. "There's nothing going on between us."

"That's not what everyone in town is saying," Arthur told him. "They're saying she's yours-"

"-I know what people are saying and I don't care," he said. "I don't concern myself with their opinion like you do."

Arthur glared, "If you're not gonna have the girl, then let somebody else have her."

Tommy said nothing as they approached their destination. Ahead of him were a small group of caravans and fire pits on the bank of a lake. He saw members of the Lee family moving about the campgrounds, minding their own business as a familiar figure came closer to them. In the distance, Tommy saw the horse being led by a boy through the water. A vibrant white coat with a mane to match, it was magnificent.

"I thought you said we were going to the fair," Arthur said.

"We are," Tommy replied, "But we got business first."

Arthur scoffed, but John merely pointed out the Lees as the boys exited the car. Tommy met with Johnny Doggs by one of the caravans. "Tommy! How the hell are ya?!"

"Johnny Doggs!" he said over the wind.

"Tommy, how are ya?" he asked when they shook hands.

"All the better for getting the smoke out of my lungs," he replied.

They walked towards the horse together. "As you know, I'm riding with the Lee family these days," he said.

"I know. I myself would sooner live amongst pigs," he glared at the nearby Lee boys, Erasmus and his brothers.

"Come on Tommy, no disputing," Johnny pleaded.

Tommy laid his eyes on the horse, cigarette hanging from between his lips, "So this is the horse?"

"And that's the car," Johnny smiled at the vehicle behind them.

Tommy began inspecting the horse. It glossed over its smooth fur coat for a feel of the hard muscles beneath. He lifted its front leg for a glance beneath the hoof, brushing out dirt to see the shoes well put. A perfectly healthy horse, which meant it'd cost him if he lost his wager. Tommy heard Arthur complaining about Tommy swapping the family car for a horse.

"Of course we're not swapping!" Johnny called to him, "Aye? That'd be mad!"

"Gonna play two-up," Tommy told him.

In the end, Tommy won his bet. He kept his promise and let Johnny have a spin in the family car. Tommy continued inspecting the horse, stroking its nose and mane comfortingly before he heard it. The soft clucking of chickens caught his ears accompanied by the sounds of two men conversing. Tommy happened a glance over to the noise, where he saw one of the Lee family talking to a hulk of a man. His bald-head shined in the bright sun, and his dusty overalls and shirt fitted him snuggly. He could tell by the look of the man he worked on a farm of some kind, or at least worked with his hands. They stood beside a truck carrying cages of feathery chickens in the bed. He assumed they were discussing payment. Tommy couldn't keep himself from remembering Rose. Her father had sold chickens, she'd told them.

"Johnny," Tommy called the man over, "Who is that?"

"Him? Oh that's Eddie Wick. He's a local chicken farmer," Johnny answered. "He does business with the Lees when they're nearby."

"Nearby what?"

"His house, of course," Johnny pointed in a direction east of them, "He lives on a small farm a mile or so that way. Why you asking? You thinking of getting into the chicken business now too, eh?"

"Just curious," Tommy said. He let the horse chew from its feed bag as he approached Eddie Wick. Tommy felt something stirring up in his gut. He tossed his cigarette aside and waited for the man to notice him.

"Can I help you?" Eddie asked when he finished with his customer. He spotted a flask tucked into the pocket of his overalls. His suspicions grew more and more the longer he looked on him.

"Are these chickens yours, Mr…?"

"Wick," the man extended a hand, "Eddie Wick, and yeah these are mine. I breed them all myself; the best chickens for miles. You interested?"

"I am."

"And you're buying a bloody chicken too?!" Arthur called from afar. "What the hell do you need a chicken for?!"

"Shut up, Arthur!" Tommy said back. Tommy studied the chickens. To be honest, he didn't know much about them. He couldn't tell one chicken from another. They all looked exactly the same, except some might've been smaller than others. That part didn't matter right now. "You raise them yourself too?"

"Aye," Eddie nodded. "My lousy no-good daughter used to help me, but she…she ran off on me," he spat on the ground.

"Ran off on you?" Tommy asked. "That's a damned shame. No girl should run out on her own father like that."

"No truer words spoken," he said. "I come downstairs one day, expecting my breakfast, and I find the little bitch gone. She didn't even have the gull to tell me she was leaving. Just like a woman, eh? Spineless; the whole lot of them are spineless. That's why they didn't go to France. I always told her she wouldn't last five minutes in a trench when bullets whizz by her."

"You were in France then?"

"Aye, I was. You?"

Tommy nodded. "Sergeant Major Thomas Shelby," he introduced with his hand out.

Eddie beamed, shaking Tommy's hand, "Major Wick. I knew I spotted a fellow veteran. 'Sergeant Major'. You're a bit young for the post. What did you do to get it?"

"Saved an officer from getting shot," he answered. "They gave me a medal. Twice."

"Ah, they love giving out medals."

He saw his shaking hands, and saw the sweat upon his brow. The weather was reasonably cool, especially by a lake. Tommy recognized the signs he'd seen before in other men. Drinkers can't hide their addiction forever.

"This daughter of yours," Tommy said, looking back at the chickens, "Any idea where she'd go?"

He shook his head, "There's only two ways she'd go from our farm. She'd either go west to London or east to Small Heath, and trust me, she wouldn't last in a place like Small Heath."

"You think so?"

"Aye, I do. She's a fragile thing. She's…She's the type who ends up on her back, if you know what I mean. She's a naïve child. My Rose was always the gentle type; didn't know how to fight or defend herself."

Tommy stopped inspecting the chickens when he heard her name. "Rose, is it?"

He nodded, "Her mother's idea. 'As pretty as a rose', she used to say. Anyways, like I was saying, she's probably in London. She's probably living in squalor or on the street, but she'd have a better chance there."

"I could imagine so," he said. "Small Heath isn't for gentle folk or those who can't defend themselves."

Eddie laughed, "My words exactly."

"So, the chickens then?"

Tommy ended up buying one. Arthur shook his head as he returned with a caged chicken. "A horse and a bloody chicken all in the same day," he griped.

"At least we don't gotta worry about dinner," John said, poking a finger through the cage bars before he ended up withdrawing a bloody finger, "Ow! Fucking shit bit me!"

That was when Tommy heard the chuckling of the Lee boys nearby. Perfect timing. He set the cage down and made his move.

"You Lee boys laughing at my brother?" he asked, glowering at them.

* * *

Rose heard the commotion from outside her bedroom window. She'd been changing when the sounds of slamming doors, defiant screams, and demanding voices reached her ears. Buttoning up her blouse, she looked through the window and saw them. Police officers broke into people's homes, throwing items out of the windows, dragging men into the street and arrested people who resisted. The quietness of the morning had been broken by the sounds raging from the street. She yelped when she heard doors from downstairs burst open loudly. She could hear Harry yelling at them to leave, and they had no business being there, but the officers ignored him. Rose froze at the window as loud thumps ascended the staircase and stopped at her front door.

They didn't knock or ask for entry. With a loud bang, a pair of officers barged into the room and began tearing the place apart. She watched them flip the mattress, pull out the drawers from the dresser, rummage through the fireplace ashes and tear open her suitcase and dump it onto the floor. They searched through each book she kept in her drawers, emptied out kitchen jars, and her tea tin. Rose couldn't muster any words or complaints. She merely watched them as they destroyed her apartment.

Behind them walked in a large man wearing a long coat and bowler hat. A pipe between his lips, he huffed out some smoke before looking about the room. She took in his bushy mustache and cold eyes. She pressed herself against the window sill once his eyes landed on her.

"Are you Rose?" he asked in a thick Irish accent.

"I am, sir," she said.

He surveyed her before speaking again, "Hm, I can see why he's drawn to you. You're a pretty little thing." Rose didn't say anything as he continued. "Allow me to introduce myself: I'm Chief Inspector Campbell."

"Nice to meet you, Inspector. Ca-can I help you?"

"I'm looking for something, Ms. Rose, and I think you might know where it is."

"How would I know?"

"Because word has reached me you're acquainted with one Thomas Shelby," he said, looking about as his men turned things over, "Very acquainted."

"I know him, yes," she said. "He owns the pub I work in downstairs."

"Aye, but I've heard it's a bit more than just employer and employee relationship."

"Then you've heard wrong, sir."

"Well, whether you're an item or not, I think you might have an idea of where my guns are located," he said. "Surely, you've heard something? Men like to talk when they're drunk, especially to pretty women."

"He never gets drunk," Rose told him. "His brothers do, but not him. If he did have any plans h-he wouldn't tell them to-to me."

He stared at her unconvinced. The officer took another puff of his pipe, and turned to one of the men. "There's nothing here, sir," the man told him. "It's clean."

"Hmm," he said, "Interesting." He looked at Rose, "If I were you, Ms. Rose, I'd steer clear of Thomas Shelby and the Peaky Blinders. I don't think a good girl like yourself would want to get mixed up in anything bad, would you?"

"N-n-no, sir."

He nodded, satisfied with her answer. "You have a good day, Ms. Rose," he said.

He turned on his heel and left, the two officers following him. Rose only felt confused. Why would he think she had any guns? What guns was he talking about? She finished dressing herself, and looked about the room. She sighed and began picking up the kitchen items they'd turned over. She felt frustrated. Rose had wanted a simple life, but simple wasn't in the cards for her. She'd been flipping the mattress over when Harry walked in through the door.

"Are you okay?" he asked, looking her over quickly.

"I'm fine, Harry," she said. "You? The pub?"

"I'm alright," he replied. "They knocked over a few things, but nothing I can't fix or replace. I got some of the lads helping downstairs, so I thought I'd check on you." He lifted up one of the fallen dresser drawers, "Those coppers can get pretty rough when they want, and I've heard things about that new Inspector."

"Inspector? Who? The one with the pipe?" she asked, successfully putting the mattress back on the bed frame.

"Yeah," he nodded, lifting another and putting it on the bed. "He's the new Chief Inspector they sent from Belfast. He's a real tough one. I just didn't want him hurting you, love. I didn't tell him anything about you, but he seemed to already know about it."

"That's because everybody knows," she grumbled, folding one of her blouses and putting it into a drawer. "Everybody thinks I'm 'Tommy Shelby's girl'; that I'm his property or something. Somebody else probably told him and that's why he thinks I'd know anything or have anything to tell him. I'm…I'm so sick of this!" She slammed another piece of clothing into the drawer. "I came here so I could get away from things like this. I wanted to be alone. I didn't want some big, stupid, stubborn, gangster in my life."

"I know you didn't," Harry said, "But if you wanted a simple life, Rosie, you should've gone somewhere else."

"Seems so." She finished folding, and filled the remaining drawers with her books. "What were they even looking for? Why did they think I had guns?"

"Guns?" he looked at her puzzled as he fixed the items back on her dresser, "What guns?"

"I don't know," she said. "He didn't specify. He only asked if I knew where they were or if I'd heard Tommy say anything about them."

"Well, whatever he was looking for was important enough to run the risk of raiding Tommy's street," he said.

"You mean they don't do raids or anything?"

"No, they don't. The Peaky Blinders pay cops to look the other way. Raids never happen when Tommy and the boys are around," he said. "That must've been why they did it today."

"Tommy isn't here?"

"No. They're all at the fair today," he said. "I heard him mention it yesterday when he was here." He finished helping her, fists on his hips, "Well, I'll see what I can muster from the cashbox so you can get some new food. They didn't get your medicine, did they?"

She shook her head, "No. I keep it in the bottom part of the stove since it doesn't work." Rose opened the small oven door to show the medicine bottle with her stash of money.

"Ah, smart girl," he grinned. "I'll be downstairs if you need anything."

"Thank you, Harry."

She finished putting the room back together when someone knocked. "It's open!" she called out as she stuck the dresser book back under the leg.

Polly came through the door, black lace veil in her hands and purse on her arm. "So, he visited you too, hm?"

"The Inspector? Yes, he did," she answered. "He and his thugs broke in here and started tearing this place apart. I've been fixing this place for a while now." As if the flat wasn't in enough disrepair.

"Are you alright?" she asked, coming closer and examining Rose's face. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"No, he didn't," she shook her head. "He just asked me odd questions."

Polly sighed, "He asked you about the guns too, didn't he?"

"He did," she nodded. "What guns is he talking about, Polly?"

Polly hesitated. "A crate of military weapons that were stolen from a BSA proofing bay," she replied. "Tommy found them and locked up somewhere. If he's gotten rid of them, I don't know, but if I know Tommy, he kept them."

"Then he should give them back," Rose said. "They're not his, and then that policeman will leave everyone alone."

"That's what I told him, but does he listen to me? No," she said. "Just like how I tell him he should ask you out on a date, but he just shuts me out or leaves the room. Ugh, I can't stand it sometimes."

"You've…You've told him to ask me out?"

"Of course," she said. "Somebody had to tell him, but he's so damned proud. It comes from his father mostly."

"I don't want him to ask me," Rose said. "He's the reason that inspector was even here. I'm not his girlfriend or his property or anything. I'm mine. I don't belong to him, and I don't have to go anywhere with him if I don't want to. I don't care who he is."

Polly smiled at her words. She then said, "He wouldn't make you if you really didn't want to, but let's not pretend the thought hasn't crossed your mind."

Rose faltered. Yes, the idea had come to her every so often. They mostly came when her mind had drifted off. She'd think of them walking down the street on starry nights or having romantic picnics in the sunlight. She'd imagine his smile, broad and cheerful because he was with her. Rose even once thought of his hand slipping up her thigh beneath her dress. That particular idea made her cheeks red.

Polly's words brought her back to the room, "Don't tell me you seriously live here."

"I do," she said. "It's honestly not as bad as it seems. I get on just fine here."

She watched the older woman set down her things and begin walking about the room. First, she tested the knobs on the stove, which all clicked or simply didn't work. She then turned on the bath tub faucet and frowned at the steady stream of brown water. It'd been when she heard the creaking of the bed springs that she shook her head. "No, no, no, this won't do. Rose, you could get sick or die in here."

"Well, it won't happen if I'm careful," Rose said. "I've been meaning to get the tub and the stove fixed like I told you, but other than that-"

"-And you have mice," she said, noting a hole in one of the corners. "Nobody should live like this, least of all you." She traced one of her fingers on the old wallpaper and a chip came off. She showed it to Rose, proving her point.

Rose gave up, and nodded, "It was all I could find at the time. I've tried making the best of it." The flat was far better than the basement.

"I could tell, but this place is far beyond the care of a good cleaning," she said. "We'll have to refurbish everything."

"Refurbish? Oh no, Polly. You don't have to do that. It's fine. I can do it."

"With a barmaid's salary, I doubt it, love," she told her. "I'll talk to Tommy. He'll pay someone to at least look at the stove."

"Why Tommy?" Rose said. "Why does it always have to be him?"

"For one thing, he's the boss. Another, because he won't say 'no'," she told her. "He'll struggle, but he'll do it in the end. You just watch. What kind of wallpaper are you interested in? I think something bright with flowers would be nice."

* * *

They hit every place underneath the gang's protection. He made it seem as if the boys cleared out so they could come and raid. Tommy imagined plenty of people would be upset with him now. A lot of them pay so these sorts of things don't happen to them. He heard of people who were arrested, people who were beaten for resisting, and the amount of damage done in homes. It worried him. This copper would have his own people turn against him. Tommy was beginning to not like Chief Inspector Campbell.

Polly closed the betting shop doors as his brothers went back outside. Damage control needed to be done now. They had to show they had no part in this. Seeing the look on her face, he already knew what she had on her mind.

"We both know what that copper was looking for," Polly told him, taking a cigarette and lighting it. Tommy already sensed the conversation ahead of him, and after who he met today, he wasn't in the mood. "Do you read the papers?"

"Racing papers," he answered.

"Well, let me tell you the odds: I reckon its 3 to 1 there's going to be a revolution."

Tommy shook his head, "I wouldn't bet on that."

"That copper's betting on that," she said. "He's not going to rest until he gets those guns back."

Tommy sighed, taking a seat at the table. He put a bit of ash from his cigarette into a tray and took another drag from it. "Did he talk to you, Pol?"

"In the church," she said, blowing her own smoke.

"He try to find our Ada?"

"She was sleeping," she told him.

Tommy gave a quick laugh, "In whose bed was she sleeping, Pol?"

"Thought you didn't care for women's business," She met his look with amusement before saying, "He knows you're the boss. He wants to meet with you. Will you talk him?"

Tommy thought a moment. He couldn't let the man think he'd won or beaten them into submission. No. Not after what he did to Arthur and the raid. "No. You don't parlay when you're on the backfoot. We'll strike a blow back first."

She nodded, "Very well." She stared at him a good minute before she said, "He talked to Rose too."

Tommy sighed heavily, "Polly, not now. I'm sick of people bringing her up around me."

"He asked her about the guns and if you'd told her anything," she said.

"And? So what? She doesn't know anything." he asked.

"You're right. She doesn't know anything, but they'll keep on bothering her. I imagine they'll even tail her now because they think she's your girl."

"She's _not_ my girl," he said. _'She wouldn't want to be anyways. Not after this.'_

"I don't want that girl getting caught up in your mess, Thomas." Polly only called him 'Thomas' when he'd done something wrong. "She's a good, sweet girl who's only trying to get by like the rest of us. Whatever it is you have planned, you leave her out of it."

"You sound like her mother," Tommy japed.

"Because she needs someone to look out for her; since that someone won't be you, it's up to me."

He exhaled more smoke before saying, "They turned her place over then?"

"They did," she said, "Not that they did much damage. The place is already a wreck. The gas in her stove either flames up too much or doesn't flame at all; there's so much rust in the pipes it makes the water brown; the wallpaper's chipping off, and the poor girl's living amongst mice. I'm surprised she hasn't caught something by now or burned the place down."

"She can always get it fixed," he said.

"She doesn't have the money for the swindlers around here," Polly said. "I was thinking of taking some money out of the cashbox so she can get a new stove at least. That way, she doesn't set herself on fire."

"No."

"What?"

"No," Tommy looked at her. "I know what you're gonna ask me to do, and the answer is 'no'. The girl's managed living up until now. A little struggle isn't going to kill her."

Polly glared, "I wasn't asking you for anything."

"You were going to. She can take care of herself. She doesn't need you mothering her."

"Perhaps a little mothering is what she needs," she retorted. "You think because you show a little indifference or contempt for her that you're fooling anyone? I saw the way you looked at her when she was here. I heard about how you rushed after her in the back room of The Garrison. You're not Arthur or your father. You're a gentleman."

"I only told her he wouldn't be bothering her anymore."

"Him or any other man," she said. "All the men avoid her now because they think you'll cut them for looking at her."

"Then they're wrong. I don't care who she lands herself with," he said. Tommy stood from the table and grabbed his coat. "I have plans to make, Pol."

"I'm still taking the money," she told him.

"Fine. Go ahead," he said. "I. Don't. Care."

Plans already formulated in his mind, but so did the idea of Rose's gas stove having a leak or her getting sick from the dirty water. He pushed the idea away for now. He'll sleep on it.


	8. Chapter 8

Her flat was worse than Aunt Polly described. He'd always wondered what had been so terrible that she traded a good home for this place. Yet, after meeting Eddie today, he understood why. Studying Rose's apartment, he saw the details Polly missed. Termites ate at the corners of the ceiling which leaked slowly down the wall; he heard the creaks in the floorboards, and he rocked rickety dresser drawer. She must freeze at night with the lack of a heater and her thin, worn out blanket. He didn't know how she could see out the window caked in grime. If he _did_ pay for a stove, he might as well pay for the rest, right? What was the point in renting a place out if it wasn't habitable? Right? Right.

"I don't think Rose would like you in her apartment, Mr. Shelby," Harry said from the doorway.

"That's why you're not going to tell her I was here," he replied.

Tommy found himself looking further into the room. He spotted a metal tin full of ginger tea. Ginger? So specific. He figured it must be for her headaches. The girl didn't have very much for decorating the place. All she had was a single picture frame atop her dresser. In it stood a dark-haired woman holding the hand of a small girl near the ocean. He understood now where Rose got her looks. Her mother had been gorgeous too. Tommy opened one of the drawers.

"Mr. Shelby," Harry said, but Tommy ignored him.

She had almost no clothes. What she'd brought with her only took up the bottoms of the first two drawers. Books filled up the third drawer and the last remained empty. So, she liked reading? He knew a place he could find her more; possibly a decent bookshelf too.

That is, if he had the time for that sort of thing. He was a busy man these days.

"Why are you doing this again, Mr. Shelby? N-n-not that I mind, it's just, Rose…she's a private girl," he said. "She wouldn't like you looking through her things."

"If I'm going to start charging her rent," he said, "I might as well make it worth paying for."

"Rent? Mr. Shelby, she doesn't make enough to afford any kind of rent at the moment."

"It wouldn't be much." He'd seen everything he expected. "I haven't set a price yet, so don't tell Rose."

He knew Harry wouldn't say anything. He'd been too scared. Now that he'd seen everything, Tommy closed the book drawer and made his way out of the room.

"Does Sam still come here?" he asked Harry as they left the door.

"Yeah, he comes in Friday nights after work."

"Tell him I want to see him tonight at the fire tonight. I have some business for him," he said.

Perhaps he might see Rose at the fire too.

* * *

The crowd roared louder than the fire. Tommy stood with Arthur and John as people tossed picture frames into the fire in front of them. He could hear the sound of heat cracking the glass. The King's portrait stared at him coldly through the flames that slowly scorched away in every frame. Yes. Yes, this would get their attention. A whole street uniting and burning their portraits of The King because their homes were unjustly raided and destroyed would surely make the papers. This act against The Crown would make Campbell look exceptionally bad in the eyes of his superiors, who would no doubt be embarrassed by the incident. Humiliation was only tolerated when it was done behind closed doors, not written in print across newspapers.

"I hope you know what you're doing," Arthur said.

Tommy didn't say anything. He knew exactly what he was doing. Once the papers reported the fire, they send their article to the government for review. When government officials read how pictures of King Charles were burned in the street, they'll ask the Chief Inspector of the area why he didn't stop it? It'll strike a blow that will bring the man to heel. Tommy couldn't have been any more certain.

He tossed in another portrait when he noticed her. Aunt Polly stood beside Rose as they watched the fire too, a small grin on Rose's face. He thought back to her father and his chickens. Tommy had released his into a field despite John and Finn's protests. He remembered the man who called Rose 'spineless', 'lousy', and 'no good'. He claimed she'd die or become a whore without him. He made her sound so useless. It wasn't a secret the man was a drunk with a mean streak. He certainly did not hide his dislike of his own child. Seeing the size of Rose and recalling Eddie's size, he couldn't see the girl fighting him off successfully. He imagined Eddie treated her like a ragdoll. It struck ice through his veins.

Rose proved him wrong. She was not useless. She'd found a decent job, fixed up a decrepit apartment, and even made friends in his aunt, sister and Harry all on her own. She procured money for food and her own expenses. She managed living in that hovel of an apartment for such a stretch of time without a single accident. Rose got on just fine without her father. She endured despite the shortcomings and conditions she lived under. He knew people who would've turned down the old apartment or cracked down underneath the torture she suffered. The girl was stronger than others believed. He admired that sort of thing. In battle, it wasn't all about physical strength and tactics. He'd learned that being a Sapper. It took more than brains to place large amounts of explosives right beneath the enemy in a small tunnel. He remembered how his heart would beat faster, and his hands sometimes shook. He could still hear the pick axes and the shovels through the wall at night. He wondered if Rose's horrors haunted her.

He hoped they didn't. She was bright, and simple, and pure…possibly the purest thing left in Small Heath. She deserved so much more.

"Mr. Shelby?"

Tommy looked over his shoulder and saw Samuel. During the war, everyone called him 'Handy' on the count of how handy he could be with tools. He and his brother, Frank, could fix anything. It followed him back home where he made a nice living fixing items for his customers or buying their junk.

"Sam," he greeted him with a handshake.

"Harry told me you wanted to see me?" he asked, taking the space beside him.

"I did," he nodded. "You still a handyman? You and Frank?"

"We do work from time to time," he said, "You need something fixed, Tommy?"

"There's an old flat atop The Garrison that needs work," he said. "I have a girl living there now, and the conditions are terrible. There's termites, mice, rusty pipes, broken stove, a grimy window, all of that. Think you can fix it?"

Sam chuckled, "Ah, Tommy you know I can fix anything. It sounds like a lot of work though."

"I'd pay you and Frank for the time," he said, eyes still on the blaze.

"Well, it'd take a few days, but we could get it done, sure."

"I need it done in one day."

"One day?!" Sam's head whipped towards Tommy, "Tommy, redoing an entire apartment takes more than one day, especially if we're talking walls and pipes and wiring. I'd need more men if you want it done so quickly."

"I'll get you as many men as you need for the job," he reassured him. "And I'll pay them too." Tommy slipped his hand into the inner pocket of his coat, and handed Sam a thick envelope. "Here's an advance. You and the men can work on the flat in two weeks. I'll get her out of the apartment so you can work."

Sam grinned at the sum in his hand, "Absolutely. I'll let Frank know."

He patted the man's shoulder as he left. Tommy then caught John smirking at him, but he pretended he hadn't noticed. His mind drifted to other problems. Tomorrow afternoon would be Monaghan Boy's final race. He'd lose this one, thus money rolling in from all the losing bets. Tommy knew he'd win his popularity back around Small Heath by repaying anyone who'd lost. Then the horse would the next two races before losing again. This pattern would eventually catch Kimber's attention. That was the problem with being a weak kingpin. He'd heard of the Lees roughing up Kimber's bookies while Kimber's men turned a blind eye to it. The Lees take whatever money the bookmakers keep on them without Kimber even knowing. He was there for the taking if Tommy's plan went through. It'd start at Cheltenham Derby.

Now, he couldn't show up there with a whore he'd hired. Kimber thought himself a ladies' man, so he'd spot a prostitute a mile away. Tommy would need a woman with class, elegance, and grace; a woman with a pretty face and the sweetest smile. He'd need the kind of woman that attracted Kimber. It'd be impressive if Tommy showed up with such a woman. His eyes looked back towards Rose. He certainly didn't like the idea of Kimber's hands all over Rose. Kimber may have a peek or even a taste, but Tommy won't let him go any further.

"You're getting pretty sweet on that girl," John said, pulling him away from his thoughts. "Soon, you'll be buying her horses and calling her 'darling'." His teasing laugh made Tommy scowl. "Oh don't look at me like that! You're never this generous with anyone! You telling me you woke up this morning and thought, 'Hm, maybe I should personally hire men to fix Rose's apartment'? You're not fooling anyone in this family, Tom, especially Aunt Pol."

"If she's going to pay rent, then might as well make the place worth living in," Tommy said.

"Yeah, sure, keeping telling yourself that if it makes you happy." He took another sip of his beer before handing it to Finn beside him, "How you planning on getting her out of her flat?"

"I'll ask Ada or Polly to take her somewhere."

No. He wouldn't. Tommy would ask her to the races. She'd certainly enjoy them.

* * *

The afternoon was surprisingly the slowest time of the day in the pub. Some men sat in a corner, drinking and talking while others sat at the bar having conversation. Harry spoke to a few of them as Rose passed drinks across the bar. A lot of them talked of the bonfire last night. They joked about how drunk they'd gotten and shared stories of where their night took them, and speculated on much trouble the Peaky Blinders would be in for their stunt on Watery Lane. Rose didn't care for it one way or another. She'd spent most of it around Polly who'd shared some worrying news.

' _Ada's pregnant,'_

At first, Rose hadn't understood the worry. Ada could simply marry the father and everything would be fine. Polly explained it wouldn't be so easy.

' _Tommy wouldn't allow it. He and Freddie…well, they have history…and Freddie's run off somewhere after the police raided his home. Ada thinks he'll come back for her, but I know better. Men never come back, and why should they?'_

Rose hoped Polly was wrong and that Freddie did come back. Polly talked about possibly sending Ada to Camden where there's a woman who could rid Ada of the baby. Rose hated the idea. Freddie should at least know about the child before any rash decisions are made. He should have a chance to do the right thing. Rose's dislike grew when Polly asked if she'd come along.

' _Ada will be angry at me,'_ she'd said. _'But she'll be glad you're there.'_

Rose agreed. She would go for Ada, the girl who'd taken her in without question or reluctance. They would be taking the train tomorrow towards Camden and be back in the same day. She'd already told Harry she'd be off for tomorrow, but didn't say why or where she'd be heading. Wiping down the bar top, she thought about her new friend. Ada being a single, unwed mother did pose problems, but she had a family who could help her. She didn't see why having a baby should warrant her exclusion from them. Polly said it'd be Tommy's decision, and Tommy wouldn't agree. Rose shuddered thinking of what her own father would've done had she become pregnant.

She untied her apron and hung it by the bar. "Harry, I'm going to run some errands. Do you need anything?"

"More potatoes would be nice."

Rose sighed, "Harry, you can't keep eating beans and potatoes for dinner. You have to eat a proper meal once in a while."

"I've never gotten the hang of cooking," he shrugged. "My daughter had been the cook before she left."

Rose then had a thought, "Fine. Then I'll make you dinner."

"Oh Rosie, you don't have to do that. I'm a grown man. Beans and potatoes are fine for me."

"Well, not for me they're not," she said. "We'll close the pub tonight and have dinner down here. I won't take 'no' for an answer."

Harry gave in and grinned, "Alright then, Rose. Just this once, though. I won't let you baby me."

Rose laughed, "Once you've had my cooking, Harry, you'll be asking me again."

She slipped on her coat and grabbed her purse. Rose first stopped by the food store, where she bought groceries for tonight's dinner and a few things that needed replacing. She liked that she'd be cooking for someone again. Regardless of his nature and how he treated her, Rose always liked her father's compliments on her cooking. He claimed it was her only useful talent. She grabbed vegetables, fruits, a chicken, and-of course-potatoes. She paid for the food and moved on to her second location: Carol's shop. Rose tried on her new dress and had it covered with plastic. She'd surprise Ada later on with the finished product.

She'd been walking back towards The Garrison when she saw the horse. Rose found it odd somebody would tie their horse to one of the poles outside the pub and leave them unattended. She walked towards the white horse and she stroked its nose.

"Hey there boy," she said, "What are you doing out here, hm? Your rider just leaves you out here?" She set her basket down and petted the silver mane, "Such a pretty boy, you are. I have a feeling I know who owns you."

The horse ducked its head down and took one of the carrots between its teeth. Rose only giggled. "No, those aren't for you," she said, "But you can have one. It'll stay between us."

"They never have just one."

She turned around and saw Tommy. He looked so handsome. Rose couldn't ignore his pink, pouty lips, his high cheeks bones, and how good he looked in his grey suit and hat. She imagined for a moment he'd been a heartthrob before the war. She could see girls clawing each other's eyes out for a chance with him. He also didn't seem so cold or distant. She picked up her basket and readjusted the dress on her arm. She tried forgetting it and remembered who he was, but it only became harder when he drew closer. "You have a beautiful horse. Does he have a name?"

"No, he doesn't," he said.

"That's a shame. Every horse should have a name," she said.

He looked her up and down before saying, "You remind me of one of those pretty, rich girls who come down from London for the races."

"That's…nice of you?" she said.

"You like horses, don't you?"

"I like all animals actually-"

He hopped up onto his horse, and said, "And you already got yourself a nice dress. You should wear it when I take you to the races."

Then he smirked down at her. Thomas Shelby _smirked._ Something of a smile broke his usually stony expression. She said nothing as he rode away. She thought about him even when he'd turned a corner and she'd gone back into the pub. Rose never imagined him smiling, let alone at her.


	9. Chapter 9

As it turned out, stews were the only thing her stove didn't burn. Rose spent a while stirring the chicken stew on a lower heat than normal. She hated the damned stove top for not working properly. She was getting tired of stew. Ladling some into bowls for her and Harry, she figured it was better than beans and potatoes for Harry. The bread he'd picked up from the bakery was warm and fresh, and he took a nice wine from behind the bar. She supposed it wouldn't make such a bad dinner, and the company was even better.

"This looks fantastic, Rosie," he said when she set the bowl in front of him.

He'd set a table in The Garrison, a little candle between them for more lighting. Rose took the seat across from him and picked up her bowl. "Thank you. Stew is the only thing I can make for right now. That stove is so fickle; I never know when it will work."

"I know somebody who can fix it," he said. "Sam's a handyman and a good friend of mine. He can take a look free of charge."

She grinned, "That's nice of you, Harry. It'd be a big help if he could just fix what's wrong with it instead of me having to buy a whole new one."

"It would be best to buy one. That stove is old and he might not be able to."

The two of them continued this conversation as they ate. Rose cut a piece of bread for herself and Harry, dipping her bread into the stew before eating a piece. She remembered the odd thing that happened earlier that day. Tommy smiled at her. Well, it'd been more of a smug smirk like the ones John gives her, but it'd been something at least. Oh, he'd looked so handsome and dreamy when he smiled. She felt her cheeks grow hot thinking of how he'd rode away on his horse like a prince in a fairytale. Rose didn't even mind that he'd sort of demanded she go to the races with him. She had a feeling she would've said 'yes' even if he'd asked properly with flowers and a gift.

"What's got you smiling and blushing?" Harry asked.

"Tommy asked me to the races with him," she said. "Two weeks from now, he said."

"The races? The Cheltenham Races, you mean?"

"I suppose. He didn't really specify. He just said I should wear the new dress I got." She then had a thought. "Harry, I've…I've never been out with a man before."

He stopped eating and stared, "Really? A girl as pretty as you has never been taken out before?"

She shook her head, "My father never let me go out with boys."

"Same as my Abbie, but when she got older, I allowed it," he said. "Well, there isn't much to it really. I'd recommend you be yourself, but I have a feeling this invitation isn't for you to be with Tommy."

"What do you mean?"

"Billy Kimber was in here when you'd gone upstairs," he said. "I'd gone into the office, but I could still hear the conversation. They said something about Kimber going to the races and meeting up there for business. I…I hope it's not true, but I think he wants you there to seduce Billy Kimber."

"What?" Her heart sank. A small part of her hoped Tommy asked her because he liked her. She should've known better. She'd only been a means to an end. "Who even is this Kimber person? Why would Tommy want to impress him so badly?"

"I don't know why he cares, but Billy Kimber is a very dangerous, very important man. He owns the third largest racetrack operation in the country, and he didn't get it legally either," he said. "I'd be careful around both of them, Rosie." He saw her expression, "Do you know what I did before I settled down and opened The Garrison?"

"What?"

"A boxer," he said.

"Really? You a boxer?"

He nodded, "Oh yeah. I was a regular boxing champ. I'd been fighting all my life, so I didn't see the problem with making some money out of it. I once knocked out a man with a single right hook. So, if any fellow comes through that door and breaks your heart, I'm breaking him."

"Even Mr. Shelby?"

"Even him. I don't care if he cuts me or his brothers come after me. You've been through enough. I won't let someone like him hurt you because he thinks he can get away with it. I promise you that."

She grinned, yet she still felt disheartened. She wouldn't be going to the races simply for Tommy's company, but he planned on passing her off. She wasn't his to give away. She wasn't his. Period. Rose and Harry finished their dinner with more conversation. She couldn't shake the disappointment even as she went upstairs and Harry went home. She washed up and knelt beside her bed as she did most nights. She knew God wasn't a fairy godmother who could grant wishes, but she prayed he'd give her this one thing. She never had anything good in her life, and she hoped Thomas Shelby would be it.

"There, I said it," she said quietly. "I said it. I want him. I want him to want me back. I…I'll tell him about Dad. I'll tell him about Mum. I'll tell him anything you want me to tell him, just please…please let me have this _one_ thing. I'm…"

' _Tired of being hurt.'_

* * *

The following morning, a knock at the door told her Polly and Ada had arrived. She let her hair fall down her back, covering the cigarette burns on her neck, and she used bracelets for her wrists. When she opened the door, Polly gave her a small grin but Ada only looked crestfallen.

"Today's the day then?" Rose asked them.

"It is," Polly said. "We're going down to the train station now."

"Don't you think we should wait and see if Freddie comes back?" Rose asked as she closed the door behind her. She saw the gratitude in Ada's face. "What if he does and the baby's already been aborted?"

"Who's to say Freddie will want a baby? What if he doesn't want to marry her?"

"He will marry me," Ada retorted. "He loves me."

Polly sighed, "Girls, we've already talked about this. This is what's best for you, Ada. The longer we wait, the worse it'll be. Come on. We'll miss the train."

The girls said nothing further as they followed Polly towards the train station. Rose felt so useless beside her. She didn't know how to comfort her. She'd never been in such a predicament before. HE'd always told her she'd been lucky no man ever touched her. He said she'd be stupid enough. He always forgot that he could've easily have landed her the same way. He'd pretend as if his vile sin never happened. She never forgot. Ada wouldn't forget this either.

They arrived at the train station and Polly left them by the benches near the ticket booth. With Polly gone, Rose took her chance. "I'm sorry, Ada."

Ada looked at her, "It's…It's fine. I'm okay."

"No, you're not," she said. "I told Polly that we should wait to see if Freddie came back, but she said he wouldn't."

"They all think he won't," she sniffled. "They think he abandoned me. They think I'd end up raising the baby alone. I know he didn't leave, Rose. I know he'll come back. He loves me. Freddie loves me."

"I'm sure he does. I thought…I thought that if you had a family, they would help take care of the baby too. I didn't think they would force you to…"

"They would if Freddie married me, but he's not here." She looked at her, "Have you ever had it done before? The…operation they do?"

Rose shook her head, and then stifled a laugh. "But...But I did think I was pregnant once."

Ada gasped. "When?"

"When I was eight," she said. "My father told me when I was little that you got pregnant by kissing, because he wanted to scare me into not kissing boys. So, one day he brings me to a farm he was working on, and the owner had a son my age named Randal Stevens. Ugh, he was a horrible boy. He always played tricks on me and pulled my hair. Anyways, he tells me he wants to show me something in the barn, right? So I follow him, and when we get there I ask him what he wanted to show me. I'm expecting him to pull out a lizard from his pocket, or a frog, or a spider or whatever he'd picked up. Instead, he grabs my dress and pulls me to him."

"And he kissed you," Ada said, an amused smile on her face.

Rose nodded, laughing, "He did. Oh Lord, I was petrified when he did it. I started crying and running to my mother. I thought 'oh no, I'm pregnant! I'm pregnant!'." The girls started laughing, "I go to my mum and she says, 'what's wrong with you? Why are you crying?' and I tell her, 'Mummy! I'm pregnant!'. She looks at me like I'm crazy and says, 'What are you talking about?' and I say back, 'Mummy, Randal kissed me and I'm pregnant now!' and she and Randal's mother just started laughing. She goes, 'sweetheart, that's not how babies are made'. Let's just say, I learned about the birds and the bees that day and my father got swatted on the head for telling me that."

Their laughter faded out and Ada said, "How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"How do you manage to be happy when things are so bad?"

She shrugged, "Maybe I've learned how to hide my sadness from people."

Ada took her hand and grasped it, the silence stayed between the two of them. Polly came back over to them from the ticket booth. She seemed glad that Ada no longer cried or seemed upset. Rose wished she could stop this from happening. She didn't want Ada unhappy. She'd heard of girls dying on operating tables or having their insides messed up after the abortion. Rose prayed the same didn't become of Ada. Polly handed the girls their tickets and lead them towards the train.

"If we take the train now, we'll make it back at nightfall," she said. "Perhaps we'll stop for a treat, hm?" she asked Ada, brushing some of her hair back.

Ada only nodded. Polly walked ahead of them, but Rose stayed beside Ada. "Do you want me to come in with you when they….So, there's somebody with you?"

"Yes," she said, "Please." She paused and then said, "I'm scared, Rose. What if they mess it up? What if they cut something in me and I can't have babies afterwards? What if…what if I die?"

Rose heard the fear in her voice now. She kept her words hushed and leaned into Rose. It's as if she only showed this vulnerability to her. "That won't happen, Ada," she said. "You'll be fine. I'm sure whoever this woman is knows what she's doing. Polly wouldn't take you to somebody who wasn't skilled."

Ada stared at her, giving a small smile and gripping her hand lightly, "I don't know how you do it, Rose, but I'm glad you do."

The two of them followed Polly towards the train. Rose had never seen a train before. During her planning, she'd thought of taking one towards London, but she knew it'd be one of the first places he'd search. All he'd have to do is ask the station master or the ticket seller if they'd seen her. She watched people fill up the compartments quickly. Polly said they should take one of the emptier ones so nobody sees them, but they never got a chance.

"Freddie," Ada whispered.

Polly and Rose looked and saw him. He stood in his hat and coat, smiling at Ada broadly. Ada ran into his arms, hugging and kissing him. Rose grinned watching them.

"I've missed you like Hell," Ada told him. "What took you so long?"

"I couldn't come back right away," he told her. "They were still looking for me in town, but Tommy got word to me. He said 'take her and leave'."

Then he fished something from his pocket and got down on one knee.

* * *

The pouring rain kept her inside the following night. Harry went home early so he could beat the rain, so she'd been left cleaning the bar. Not that she minded, since cleaning was always relaxing for her. She listened to the rain pounding the windows and the muddy grounds outside as she cleaned the beer mugs and whiskey glasses. It reminded her of those nights in the basement. She'd lie on her mattress; hands chained up, and hear the rain fall. It sounded soothing despite the small clashes of thunder. Those had been the calmer nights surprisingly.

They would be married soon, and Ada asked Rose if she'd be a witness. Rose couldn't say 'no' to such a happy couple. Unfortunately, Freddie didn't listen to Tommy's letter. He wouldn't leave on the train. He told Polly they were staying in Small Heath, and he wasn't afraid of Tommy. She found it romantic, but foolish. Surely, Tommy wouldn't allow this union. Polly told her so on their way back into town. Rose didn't understand why Tommy's opinion mattered, though she kept that comment to herself.

She then went about the room picking up whatever messes she found on the tables when a banging came to the door. She felt her breath catch in her throat. Her head looked over to the door. She couldn't see any silhouette or shadow, but she knew. The person knocked again on the outside door. Rose put down the mugs in her hands and walked timidly towards the first set of doors. It was him. She knew it. She only knew one person who pounded on doors. Her guts twisted, her throat became dry, her palms sweated and she could almost hear herself whimpering. A shaky hand unlatched the door and another turned the knob. She couldn't. She couldn't let him in, no matter what he said or did.

Tommy stood in the doorway, holding his coat over his chest and shaking it out as he walked past her.

"Get me a drink," he said, taking off his hat as he entered.

She didn't bother telling him they were closed. Rose let out a shaky breath as she shut the door. She thanked God it hadn't been him. She walked behind the bar and grabbed Tommy's usual drink. He took the bottle and glass towards a nearby table.

"Do you want to be-"

"-Stay," he said. "I could use the company."

Rose nodded, and took the chair beside him. Most people were quiet when upset, but Thomas Shelby's quietness intensified the area around him. She could feel he hid something. She watched him light his cigarette. He offered her one but she shook her head.

"You don't smoke?" he sounded surprised.

"No," she said, "Or drink."

"Ironic. You work in a pub."

"Well, it's not as if I got the job by choice," she said. She thought of asking what troubled him, yet the words stuck in her throat. Tommy didn't seem like the kind of man who shared very much. He'd do what Polly said he'd do: shut her out. Although, she saw a pain in his eyes that she recognized. "You had to shoot your horse, didn't you?"

He put down his glass, "How did you know?"

"I…I can tell," she said. "I know the look. When you lose something you cared about, there's a look people do."

He sighed, "I could never get over it. When the horses died in battle, I couldn't get over them. I'd see them lying in the battle field, shot through the neck or the head, and I…It'd tear me to pieces. I was used to seeing men die; it wasn't anything I hadn't seen before growing up. But the horses…It'd haunt me for days after."

"The same used to happen to me when my dad killed something," she said. "He liked killing the chickens himself and he always made me watch him chop the heads off. I don't know why. He said it was so I could do it myself, but I could never do it. He'd do it to rats, mice, birds, even a pig. He liked killing things in front of me. It's…It's like he enjoyed seeing me cry." She then said, "I'm sorry. He was a beautiful horse, and he was sweet. It's a shame he never even had a name."

"There are a lot of things that are a shame," he said. "Like how your father treated you. I bet he'd make you fill up his flask too, just so you know he'd be drinking that day."

She gripped the end of her apron. "What?"

"His flask; the one he keeps in his overalls."

"How do you know that?"

"The same way I know how you got those scars," he said.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Your name is Rose Wick. You lived on a little chicken farm in the middle of nowhere, with a father who kept you locked up in his basement," he said. "He was a decorated soldier who became a chicken owning drunk. He was a man who was so upset with how his own life turned out that he took it out on you."

Rose didn't say anything. She only looked on him. She held back the tears that she felt forming. She never thought she could be so angry at someone. "You couldn't just leave it alone, could you?" she said. "You couldn't just mind your own business and leave me be, could you? Why do you even care? What does my life have to do with you? And don't say Arthur because we both know that's a lie."

She saw the hesitation in him; he almost looked nervous. He threw back the rest of his whiskey, leaned towards her, and said, "Because….Because I wanted to know why the kindest, warmest, most beautiful woman I'd ever met was so sad all the time." When she didn't respond, he continued, "You're not spineless, Rose. You're not useless. You could've let him break you, and you didn't." He brought his chair to her, putting out his cigarette. Tommy cupped her cheek like he'd done in the back room, "You're stronger than you know, Rose. There's so much to you that people don't see, but I see it."

"A-a-and do you…like it?" she asked. She immediately regretted asking him. It sounded so childish.

"I love it actually," he whispered back.

' _Oh dear Lord…He's going to…He's about to…Is he? Will he? I hope so. Please kiss me, Tommy. Kiss me.'_

He kissed her. It'd started chaste and soft, sort of like testing the waters of a lake. Her body felt electrified once his kiss grew deeper. Her arms wrapped around his neck as he pulled her onto his lap. She didn't care about his wet clothes soaking into hers or the whiskey and smoke on his tongue. She loved it. Rose loved anything that was part of him. He kept his hands on her waist, but never went further down. Warmth stirred up between her legs the longer he held her there. She wanted him. Holy God in Heaven, she wanted him more than anything in the entire world.

Their lips broke apart, but he kept her so close. Her head swam and she tried catching her breath. He was intoxicating and so addicting at the same time. He was perfect. "Please. Please don't come back tomorrow and pretend this never happened." She hadn't meant to say it. The words sort of rolled out of her. "Please don't…don't pretend you don't feel the way I feel."

He pecked her lips. "I won't," he said, "If you'll be mine?" He kissed her again, letting it linger a moment before he said, "You're the only good thing that's come into my life, and I don't want to let you go. Please?"

She'd promised she wouldn't let anyone own her. She would be her own woman. Yet, this wasn't him 'owning' her. Tommy wanted to love her even if he didn't exactly say. She briefly kissed him again before nodding, "Yes." She felt her heart swelling in her chest, a smile growing on her face, "Yes, I will."

She'd never seen him smile the way he did at her. She loved his smile, she decided. She hoped this meant she'd see him smile all the time. They kissed once more. Rose nearly got lost in him again before he said, "Polly won't let me hear the end of this, you know."

"We…We don't have to tell them right away, if you'd rather-"

"-No," he said suddenly. "We'll tell them. All of them. And I know exactly how."


	10. Chapter 10

He told her they'd meet at his stables in a few days. Curly already saddled Monaghan Boy while Tommy stood by the river, smoking a cigarette while he waited. He supposed the horse could use a bit of stretching from being in that stable so long. The bullet the Lees sent him was still in his pocket. He felt for it. His fingertips smoothed over the little scratches that spelt his name. It was the family's way of declaring war. Their first act had been sabotaging his new horse. Curly claimed they'd cursed the seed in its hoof, and it'd be dead by morning. It affected the horse's legs; the disease spreading from one foot to the others. Tommy had no choice. He hated what he'd done. He promised himself he'd never do it again. All throughout the war, he'd found himself putting horses out of their misery. He wished they'd never made him do it. He'd strike his blow back soon. He'd hit those Lees where it really hurt.

He'd kept his night with Rose a secret. A part of him said it'd been too soon of a confession. It'd been so spontaneous of him. Tommy never did anything that he hadn't thought through or planned ahead. He didn't like surprises, but Rose surprised him. She'd waltzed into his life alone and afraid. She warmed and charmed the distrusting members of his family and enchanted people without really trying or realizing it. He'd first thought of her as that wounded kitten everyone would look after. Now, he saw her as a woman who strived for a normal life. She wanted normalcy after being in a place so abnormal. Tommy knew what that felt like.

In those romance stories Ada reads in the papers, the man always has some other woman to compare to his newfound love. Tommy scoffed. Grace was nothing like Rose. He hadn't seen it at the time, but Polly always told him: She was a cold, manipulative fish. She was strong, yes. She was smart, clever and witty. She'd made him smile wider, laugh harder, and made him feel free to be himself. Grace became part of him in a sense. She'd given him a feeling he'd never known before. Then, she'd left. Tommy recalled the day he came home from war and found she'd gone away. Polly said she came into the betting shop with a letter.

 _'I can't live this life you lead, Thomas. It's too much for me. I'm sorry. Love always, Grace.'  
_

Arthur always said it'd been a cold move. Tommy sometimes wondered if that's what made him lose his way in the first place. Looking back on her, thinking of her pretty blue eyes and soft blonde curls, he wondered why he'd loved her in the first place. She hadn't been the light at the end of a dark tunnel or a candle in the dark. She wasn't a beam of goodness or a ray of hope for something more. She'd been a copper's free-spirited daughter. She liked bad boys and liked doing bad things behind her father's back. Polly liked to say that perhaps the rebellious teen in him like the idea of secretly seeing her. Being associated with cops or their daughters was grounds for disinheritance in his grandfather's time. It would've been forbidden in their family. Regardless of their disapproval, Tommy fell head over heels in love. It was heated and passionate. It'd been a teenage romance that blossomed into adulthood. They spent every waking moment together. He showed her parts of himself he never showed anyone. She made him feel safe to be himself. He regretted doing that now.

Rose wouldn't do that to him. Rose was far too kind and warm. Tommy felt that simply looking at her. She wouldn't leave him high and dry. Rose might not have looked it, but she was just as tough as Grace. Grace fought, smoked and drank like the rest of them, while still maintaining a certain sort of class. He admired her fiery spirit. Getting her to settle on him had been like breaking a wild horse. He supposed that might've drawn him into her clutches, because once she had him she didn't let go. He did anything she asked. Anyone she wanted taken care of, he'd hunt them down like a dog and cut them. She seduced him. She ensnared him. Then she simply disappeared. Polly said she'd had a rough time with the family business; she wasn't as tough as she pretended, it seemed. He felt foolish all over again.

 _'Rose is different,'_ he told himself.

Tommy knew riding through town with Rose would be a statement. People would know about them after today. There'd be no more rumors or speculations. It'd be a true fact that Tommy Shelby and Rose Wick became an item. He was sure once word got out about them, his enemies may listen. The last thing he wanted was her getting involved in things she didn't understand. Tommy knew he'd need a closer watch on her than before if things became rough. This union of theirs seemed like an drunken impulse. It hadn't been though. Tommy spent a majority of his nights wondering whether he loved Rose or not. 'Love' was a strong term. 'Like' didn't suffice as a description either. 'Infatuated' made it sound sexual. For the first time, Tommy wasn't certain on what he felt.

He repeatedly visited The Garrison after that night. He'd see her eyes light up slightly at the sight of him across the bar. They'd have a minute or so of conversation before he reverted to his private room. Tommy's favorite thing lately was her finding him alone in the room, which wasn't very often. He'd pull her into his lap, and kiss her. They'd sit there talking about anything and everything. It felt normal. It felt nice. Tommy didn't have many things that were normal or nice.

"Tommy! Tommy," Curly bustled over to his side.

"What is it, Curly?" Tommy asked, throwing his cigarette into the water.

"Ms. Wick is here," he said. "She's waiting for you by the stables."

Butterflies filled his stomach. Tommy fixed his cap properly on his head again, straightened out his jacket and began walking towards the stables. He saw Rose by the horse, doing exactly what he expected.

"Such a good boy," she said, stroking his nose gently and smiling as she held the reins hanging from his neck. "They call you magic, you know. They say a Chinese girl blows powder on you and you win races. I just think you're special. Yeah, you're only special." She stroked his mane, and giggled when he huffed at her. "Don't ever think you need magic to be special."

She wore a yellow dress with short sleeves. He'd never seen her without long sleeves before. Tommy could see faint scars on the backs of her arms, and he hated thinking of how they'd gotten there. She wore silver cuffs over her wrists and her usual silver crucifix. She looked beautiful. Hell, the girl could wear a sack dress and she'd still be gorgeous. He saw she carried a basket on her arm with a cloth draped over it.

"He doesn't," Tommy said.

She turned and faced him, smiling. "Tommy…"

"The powder trick is just so people will bet on him," he said, walking up to her and the horse. "It helps them believe he'd win."

"And when he doesn't?"

"Then it's a case of bad luck, isn't it?" He looked down at her basket, "You brought a basket?"

"For lunch," she said. "I thought…I thought maybe we could go somewhere nice and have a picnic? Just the two of us?"

"A picnic?"

"If you don't want to, it's fine. I just thought since we were riding anyways, we could go somewhere private," she said. "W-w-we don't get to be alone often."

"No, no, a picnic is fine," he said quickly. The idea of a picnic sounded foreign. Another distinction: Grace never settled for quiet things. She would've suggested The Fair or the racetracks or something with excitement. Not a picnic by a lake. She said romantic dates were boring. Being a young man in love, he'd agreed. He'd never taken a girl anywhere remotely romantic before. Yet, the thought of sitting lakeside with Rose was tempting. She deserved better than a noisy derby or a crowded fighting ring. "I know a place."

She seemed relieved by his answer. She looked at the horse again, "I've never ridden a horse before."

"Don't worry. I'll teach you."

Tommy helped her onto the horse and followed after her. She nestled into him perfectly. She wasn't too wide or too petite. She might've been made for him.

"Alright, make sure you're balanced," he said, "And that your legs are going inward with the horse; keep your knees straight." He saw her shapely legs go exactly how he described. His feet were already in the stirrups, and Monaghan Boy already was accustomed to him, but this wouldn't be their last horse ride together. "Hold the reins like this," he showed her how he held them and positioned her thumbs so they wouldn't slip from her hands, "Now, squeeze him with your legs just a little. This will let him know to walk."

Rose did as instructed and yelped softly when the horse lurched forward. "Use the reins to make him turn," he then said, "Pull right to make him go right and left to make him go left. Not too hard though. It could hurt his mouth if you pull too tightly."

They made a perfect left turn towards town. Rose was beaming. "You're a natural at this," he said to her.

"Hardly," she said. "I'm just worried I'll hurt him."

"As long as you don't pull too tight or kick too hard," he said, "You should be fine. He's well trained for riding, so there's nothing to worry about."

She smirked, "I bet you let all the girls ride your horses, huh?"

"No," he shook his head, "I've never taken any of them riding."

It was a fact. Tommy dated girls in his youth of course, but he never taken them horse riding. Not even Grace. Grace showed more interest in his car than his horse. He'd only bought the damned thing to impress her.

 _'No, don't think of her now.'_

"How come?" she asked.

"They never asked," he said. "They were more interested in the car than the horses."

"That's ridiculous. What's so special about a car? It's just a machine with wheels."

"A machine with wheels that you don't have to feed or water or bathe," he said. "It gets you places faster, and it's a new innovation."

"Sounds boring," Rose said. "I prefer horses."

"That's because you've never been in a car before," he smirked.

"So, does that mean you're going to prove me wrong and take me for a spin in your fancy car?"

"Maybe," he said. He leaned in to her ear and said, "But in a car, I can't be this close to you."

She couldn't hide her blush from him. "Tommy…" she giggled.

He took over the reins as they entered town, and Rose held onto her basket. Tommy noticed the glances right away. People in Small Heath usually saw Tommy riding one of his horses through town, either on his way to Garrison Court or simply for a short ride. Never had they seen someone else with him, let alone a woman. Not everybody saw them, but the people that did made sure he saw them back. He didn't care. He wanted them to know.

"People are staring at us," she said.

"Let them stare," he told her.

They could've taken the other road and avoided town all together, but Tommy didn't take it this time. The couple rode out through the other side and into the country. He stopped the horse by his personal spot. Here, the trees bunched together and shielded him from any passersby. He recalled coming here as a lad. He was glad he could share it with someone else. They dismounted Monaghan Boy once they reached their spot, and he tied the horse's reins around a tree. He felt good about this picnic. He'd thought of taking Rose somewhere private. A nice little getaway from the city where he could enjoy her company with no interruptions. Rose set out a small blanket she'd brought underneath a nearby tree, and began setting out plates and silverware. He noticed the chipped china and mismatching forks and knives.

"Where did you...?" he pointed to the dinnerware.

"Oh, Harry loaned me the blanket," she said, "But these were what I found in my flat."

"And you happened to find two of everything?" he took a seat on the ground, putting his hat aside.

She looked away, twisting one of the forks in her hand, "Alright. I pinched one of the plates from somebody's bin and I found this fork in one of the office drawers, but I washed them good before I brought them. I swear."

He chuckled, "I believe you."

She put the fork down, and smoothed out her dress over her legs. "How did you know to pick this place?" she asked.

"I used to come here when I was a lad," he answered, taking a seat across from her. "Whenever my parents fought, I'd ask my granddad for one of his horses and come down here. I'd skip rocks, read books, or maybe even fish. I liked the silence. Now, I can't stand it."

"How come?"

"Because in the silence, I can hear it all," he said.

He looked over at her, and spotted her legs. Her stockings couldn't mask the long scar running up the side of her left shin. He wondered how it'd happened, but he didn't ask. He looked away immediately towards the water. He couldn't stop the flood of impure thoughts from coming. Tommy thought about running his hands over her legs, and kissing the inner parts of her knees and thighs. He pictured himself on top of her, holding and kissing her as their hips met. He could almost hear her quivering breaths and soft gasps.

"I'd broken my leg," her words caught him off guard and he looked up at her.

"Huh?"

"The scar," she gestured to it, "I got it from breaking my leg."

She expected a follow-up question. Tommy wouldn't give her one. He knew it'd upset her. "So, sandwiches I suspect?"

She smiled gratefully at him, nodding, "Yes. I made some."

It felt odd. He felt out of place in this peaceful setting. Tommy grew used to the noise and smoke of the city, he forgot such a beautiful place existed just outside. He'd spent five years in trenches and barracks and in tunnels he forgot simple things like picnics. He stared at Rose as she pulled a small dish of sandwiches from her basket along with a tin of biscuits. She relished in this environment. She enjoyed every second in the free air, among the birds and trees. He imagined she loved everything about the outside world, since she'd spent such little time around it. He hated it all. He hated the gentle breeze through the trees and the stillness of the water. It was quiet. Too quiet for him. It only brought up the worst of memories for him.

He bit into one of her sandwiches, but he only watched her watching the lake. She took it all in as if she'd never seen a lake before. "There were some Irish men in the pub earlier today," she told him.

"And?"

"And they were asking for you," she said. "I told them you weren't there since you'd left, but they said they'd like to meet with you."

"Did they say what they wanted?"

She shook her head, "Only that they wanted to talk with you in private about important business. They wouldn't say who they were either. They said they'd come tomorrow morning and talk with you."

"Great," he sighed. "More people who want to talk with me."

"Is it about the guns?" she asked.

He stopped eating and paused, "The guns?"

She nodded, biting into her sandwich piece, "Yes, the ones you stole-"

"-We don't talk about the guns. Alright?" He heard himself saying this much softer than when he'd scolded Charlie. "Don't bring them up."

"But Tommy, there's nobody around," she laughed. "I think it's safe. Who's going to hear us? The trees?"

Grace would've demanded they talked about them. He imagined her already knowing about them and coming up with plans on what to do with them. Grace never exceeded caution. It's what made her so dangerous. The young man he'd once been liked that in a woman. Now, he felt differently. He sighed. "Okay, so Irish men who want to know about my guns?" he wondered out loud. "They're probably IRA."

"IRA?"

"Irish Republic Army," he answered. "Men who come over from Ireland that are fighting for independence. Most of the men here aren't real IRA. They just like the songs."

"Are you going to deal with them?"

He took a few more bites before he answered, "No. If I give them the guns, there will be Hell in the streets. If I give the guns to the communists, we'll have a revolution on our hands. I can't give anyone those guns."

"Then why have them?" she asked. "Wouldn't it be better if you left them for the police somewhere? They're not yours and you're not using them."

He smiled at her innocent suggestion. "Leverage," he said. "Leverage is why I have them, Rose. If I keep their location a secret, I'll get exactly what I want. You play the hand you're dealt, and that's what I'm doing."

"Or gamble with your life," she said, "And your family's." When he gave her a questioning look, she put her sandwich back on her plate and said, "I heard rumors about this Inspector Campbell. He's done some horrible things. Look what he did to Arthur. Imagine what he could do if you kept those guns from him for too long."

"He'll get his guns," Tommy said, "But only when I want him to."

"Which will be when?"

"When I take down Billy Kimber."

"But I thought you wanted to be friends with him."

"I plan to betray him."

Tommy found himself telling her his entire plan. Every detail. He hadn't meant to do so and he probably shouldn't have, but he did. She made it so easy for him. She didn't try budging in her own ideas or put down his own. If anything, she looked on him with worry. Rose didn't say anything however. She only ate her lunch and listened. When he finished, she retrieved a bottle of whiskey, which she only poured for him.

"...And when that finally happens, Shelby Brothers Ltd. will be owners of the third largest race track operation," he said, pulling out his cigarette carton.

"That all sounds very complicated and dangerous," Rose said. "Wouldn't you be better off with something more simple?"

"Rose, do I look like a man who wants something simple?" He lit his cigarette and smoked.

She giggled, "No, but you should. I happen to think simplicity is a great thing."

"So you're happy with a shabby apartment and a job in the pub underneath it?" he said.

"I am, surprisingly," she answered. "It's better than where I was before." She then said, "I think I enjoy the freedom more than anything else. I...I can do whatever I want. I can cook what I want. I can wear what I want. I can sleep, clean, and shop without anyone bossing me around. I know my home isn't ideal and my job isn't the grandest, but they make me happy. Isn't there anything that makes you happy?"

He thought for a moment. "Success."

"Just that? Nothing else?"

"My family," he added, "Sometimes."

"Success and your family," she said. "I guess that just about sums you up."

"And there's one more thing, but I'm not so certain about it yet," he said. He contemplated her beside him. When Grace wasn't chewing him out, she would sit next to him with a snobbish look on her face. She always acted as if she were too good for the likes of him, even though she'd chosen him. She'd been a posh girl from a well-to-do, respected family. Rose didn't have that look. She never did. Not even once.

"What?" he suspected she knew the answer already.

"You."

"Me?"

"Yes, you."

"How do I make you happy?" she asked.

"I'm not sure if it's happiness exactly," he replied. "But it's different than what I usually feel for people."

 _'You make me feel normal._ _You help me forget. Y_ _ou make me forget Kimber. You make me forget Campbell. I forget the guns, the betting shop, the races, the family, the business, all of it. I even forget France and the smoke and the mud and the damned bullets they awarded me for taking. I forget everything and only think about you in that moment. I feel like another person around you. I feel like a new man. I fucking feel something that isn't hate or anger or pain. It's something warm and true. I don't know what to call it, but it's there.'_ He wished he could tell her. He wished the words hadn't caught in his throat. Tommy washed them down with his food and whiskey.

Rose gave a small smile, "I suppose that's something."

"Do I make you happy?" he asked.

She paused, studying his face and fiddling with her skirt in her fingers. "I'm not sure yet either," she said.

"Then we'll have to find out together."


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I don't know if Fanfic lets you know, but I re-uploaded Chapter 10 because I revised some stuff in it. I know it will seem kinda sudden and out of the blue. Hope you guys like them! I'm not giving much away, but you'll see.**

 **P.S. I can't stop thinking of a TommyxRose wedding since I saw the spoilers on Tumblr.  
**

It'd been a dream. She worried she'd awake the following morning and find herself back in the darkness with Him standing above her. She'd find out all of Tommy's words, kisses, smiles and laughs weren't real; that he'd been a figment of her imagination. Nothing in her life ever felt as surreal as being pressed against his chest on the back of that horse. Rose didn't even open her eyes when she woke. The fear boiled in her stomach, and she buried her face in her pillow. She couldn't handle it if she learned she'd only dreamed everything. When she gathered her courage, she opened her eye. She didn't see the basement. She saw her apartment. She'd never felt so relieved in her life.

Sliding off her bed, Rose began making her morning ginger tea and porridge. Her thoughts drifted back to Tommy again. He'd driven her home in his fancy black car after they reached the stables. Rose admitted she'd been nervous about riding in a car. HE always told her how dangerous they could be if mishandled. She thought she'd hid her nerves well enough until Tommy reached for her hand. She thought she must've eaten butterflies for lunch because they'd fluttered in her stomach. They held hands all the way home. The thought of it sounded so innocent. Thinking of their goodnight kiss made her blush as she sipped her tea quietly. That part of their date hadn't been innocent. They shared a long and heated kiss in his car; Tommy's hands on her back and hers in his hair. The idea of his hands sliding below her waist made her giggle. She had a feeling he wanted to do just that, but restrained himself. A part of her worried his intentions matched his elder brother's, yet something told her otherwise. HE always said some men hid their mischief very well.

Unfortunately, Rose put her thoughts aside. She had bigger things going on today, such as Ada's wedding. Ada only told her the other day when she'd visited. She couldn't tell a single soul about their marriage or that they'd be leaving for London soon. She said Freddie had business there, and that leaving for a while would be best for the couple. Rose didn't agree. A pregnant woman should avoid travel as much as possible, and marrying an anarchist on the run didn't sound safe. Yet, she wouldn't tell Ada. She'd seemed so happy talking about her potential wedding and how glad it made her having Freddie back. Rose wouldn't ruin that happiness by dragging her down. She'd hated keeping that secret from Tommy, who'd shared everything with her. He'd told her about the guns, Billy Kimber, Cheltenham, and their operations. She told him as much as she thought she should; she kept a few of the terrible things out. Yet, not telling him about Ada and Freddie made her feel guilty, but it was for the best. Rose finished her porridge and tea, getting dressed right afterwards before heading downstairs.

"Harry, I'm going to be gone for a few hours," she told the bartender. "If that's okay?"

Harry perked up from behind the bar, nodding, "Of course. What's the occasion?" he asked, seeing the peach colored dress Ada loaned her for the wedding.

"Nothing," she smiled, "Just wanted to look nice today. It's a good day for it, don't you think?" she said. She felt guilty lying to Harry, but she'd promised Ada.

"You don't need a fancy dress to look nice, Rosie," he said, wiping one of the washed beer mugs. "You're lovely all the same."

"Thank you, Harry," she smiled.

She heard the bar door open and in walked Inspector Campbell, absent his entourage of Special policemen. Her insides twisted seeing the mustachioed policeman. He smoked his pipe like he'd done when he first arrived, and looked about the room. The morning stragglers glanced at him and either glared or hid their faces. His eyes eventually landed on Rose.

"Ah, Miss Rose," he said, pipe hanging in his mouth. "You look lovely this morning."

"Thank you, Inspector," she replied. She hoped he only came for a drink, not an interrogation. "How can we help you today?" she asked.

"I had some questions for you," he said, "About a man named Freddie Thorne. Is there somewhere private we could talk?"

Rose tried holding her own, making eye contact and a firm stance by the bar. "Yes," she nodded. She turned to Harry, "Is the office empty?"

"Should be," he replied.

"We'll talk in there then," she told him before leading the Inspector away.

Campbell followed her into the small office where Harry went over numbers and inventory for the month. Slightly dusty and cramped, Rose took a seat at the small desk while the inspector stood in front of her. She expected he'd pull out some sort of notepad, but he did no such thing. He merely emptied out his pipe and tucked it back into his coat pocket. He didn't say anything right away. He only stared at her, surveying her face and the rest of her. Her skin crawled sitting so close to him, and seeing the look in his eyes.

"You had questions for me, sir?" she asked, breaking their silence.

"Um, yes," he said. "Freddie Thorne. Do you know him?"

"I know of him, sir," she replied. "He comes in here occasionally with some of the other factory workers."

"So, you've never spoken or been around him?"

"No, sir."

"Even though you are close friends with Ada Shelby?" he asked.

"Yes. I don't see what that has to do with-"

"-When we raided Mr. Thorne's home," he interrupted, "We found a prescription for iron tablets for Ada Shelby."

She thought carefully. She couldn't give Ada away so easily. "What does Miss Shelby's prescription have to do with whether I know him or not?"

"If I know women," he said, "Then I know that when one of them has a secret man in her life, she normally shares it with her best friend. According to some witnesses, you and Ms. Shelby are very close. You've been seen around town together, shopping together, and walking together."

"I mean, I know Freddie and Ada are together, but that doesn't mean I know any details of their relationship," she said. "It's inappropriate to ask about such things."

"Inappropriate?" he smirked, "Charming." He looked her over once more before saying, "Are you then also aware your best friend is dating a communist? And that said communist could've stolen a shipment of guns for a revolution?"

"A communist?" Rose heard the word before. She hadn't been entirely sure what it meant, but Ada explained that Freddie often got in trouble for speaking at the factories about wanting fair wages for such grueling hours. "No. I didn't know."

Campbell seemed unconvinced. "Miss Rose," he said, "If the communists were to get their hands on such dangerous guns, and distributed those guns to their followers and sympathizers, The Crown would suffer a revolution. Now, as a good subject of this great country, surely you'd tell me if you knew anything about those guns?"

"Inspector Campbell," she said a bit more firmly, "As I told you when you and your men ransacked my flat, I know nothing about these guns you're speaking of. It's horrible that someone would steal them, but I doubt I would know anybody who'd steal them."

He chuckled, "That's where you're wrong, Miss Rose. You happen to be very acquainted with my two of my suspects: Arthur and Thomas Shelby. You're also close to a few of their relatives."

"Just because I know them doesn't mean they tell me things. I'm just a barmaid to them."

"Well, the fact you'd been seen riding through town on horseback with Thomas, and you'd been spotted kissing in his car," he said, "Tells me otherwise." When she didn't answer, he said, "You seem like a good, Catholic girl, Miss Rose. I don't think you'd lie to me, would you?"

"N-no, sir," she shook her head. "I have no reason for lying."

He nodded, "A word of advice: Stay away from the Peaky Blinders. It might get you into trouble one day."

With that, Campbell walked out of the office. Rose shuddered. The way he talked, the way he stood, the tobacco smoke lingering in the air around her, made her think of HIM. HE hadn't smoked as often as he'd have liked, but when he did, it stunk up everything. The scent would stick to him like glue. Campbell spoke in such a condescending tone she wished she'd slapped him. He knew nothing about her and he never would. She hated it.

When she was certain he'd left, she came out of the office. "Are you alright?" Harry asked.

"I'm fine. He just had some questions for me," she answered. "I'm going to head out now. I'll be back later."

"Alright."

She waved him goodbye as she left. Rose continued thinking over his peculiar questions about the guns and Freddie. He turned his suspicions from Tommy to Freddie when none of his evidence pointed towards Tommy. Perhaps he and Ada should leave the city for a while. It clearly wasn't safe for them. She'd hoped she hadn't done more damage by answering his questions. She hadn't told him about their wedding or their plans in London. She said nothing about the baby either. The last thing she wanted was to be the reason for Ada's or Freddie's arrest.

She walked all the way to a bridge that Ada said she and Freddie met in secret. When she reached the steps, she found Ada waiting there with two bouquets of flowers. The women beamed at one another before hugging tightly.

"How do I look?" Ada asked spinning around in her ivory dress and pale pink coat.

"You look wonderful," Rose said. "A dress fit for a bride."

"A secret one anyways," Ada chuckled. She sighed, handing Rose her bouquet, "I'm so nervous, Rose."

"Don't be," she said. "You're doing the right thing for the baby and for you. Freddie loves you and wants to marry you."

"Don't be," she said. "You're doing the right thing for the baby and for you. Freddie loves you and wants to marry you."

"I know, I know, but it's all happened so quick," she replied. "Just like some other things I've heard about recently."

Rose recognized the knowing smile on Ada's face. She blushed. "I don't know what you mean."

"Oh yes you do," she said. "A certain somebody I know was seen riding through town on my brother's horse…with my brother sitting on the same saddle."

"It didn't mean anything," Rose said, "It was just a picnic. That's all."

"Well, you two looked pretty cozy on that horse," she said. "You know, he never takes girls on his horses. They've always been his personal thing."

"He told me," she replied.

"He never even took Grace on his horses," she added. "He'd drive her around in his car instead."

"Grace? Who's Grace?"

"His old girlfriend," she answered. "He didn't tell you about her?"

Rose shook her head. She wondered why Tommy never mentioned her their entire afternoon together. She'd thought he told her everything. She supposed there must be a reason. She hadn't told him everything either. Rose wasn't sure if she truly wanted Tommy knowing all that happened. She understood if he didn't want her knowing about this Grace woman. Some wounds cut too deeply to be talked about out loud.

"Ada, Rose," Freddie came rushing down the stairs leading under the bridge. He wore a suit matching his hat, looking like a proper groom. "We gotta get going. The Vicar is waiting for us."

He grabbed Ada's hand, but she stopped him. "How do I look?" she asked him.

Freddie looked her over. Rose saw a smile grow on his narrow face. This smile beamed love and admiration for her. Rose wished Tommy looked at her in such a way. "Like an angel," he said.

Ada beamed. The two of them walked ahead of her. Rose felt indecent; being in the presence of such love made her feel awkward suddenly. She felt as if she watching them through glass. They held hands the entire way there. They smiled and giggled like two lovesick teenagers. They reminded her of the lovers in her books, head-over-heels and risking everything for each other. Tommy said Freddie wanted Ada for the guns he thought Tommy possessed. He wanted a glorious revolution with machine guns and pistols, taking down the oh-so-oppressive system. Being married to Ada would ensure that for him. Rose told him that wasn't true. She saw it now as she watched them enter the church. Freddie looked at Ada as if she were the most wonderful thing to ever happen to him.

They stood at the altar, the vicar reading from the Bible and asking each of them whether they would take the other for better or worse. Rose stood on the side, watching them with her flowers. She remembered the picture HE kept on the mantelpiece. It was the only other picture of her mother in their house. It'd been a painting of her mother and father in their wedding outfits. Her mother told her it'd been before cameras advanced as they'd done. They didn't smile. They stood side by side in front of a garden backdrop, her mother in a glorious white dress and her father well dressed in a cheap suit. Her mother kept one hand on her father's chest, and he had his hand on her waist. They faced one another rather than the artist. Even without the smiles, she knew they loved each other.

She'd never attended a wedding before. She couldn't think of any family members who would get married. She knew HIS family had been farmers and stablehands living rather poorly in the countryside. HE always complained about how young he'd been when he started working on farms and in fields. Her mother never talked about her family. Whenever Rose asked, her mother tensed up and changed the subject. She assumed her mother must've not had any family, hence the lack of weddings, funerals, communions, baptisms, and holiday gatherings.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife," the vicar finally said. "You may kiss your bride."

Rose clapped when they kissed. Ada turned to her after, squealing and beaming. She hugged and congratulated each of them. As far as secret weddings went, she was glad theirs was her first.

"You'll come visit us before we leave, right?" Ada asked as they left the church. "Say you will."

Freddie chuckled, "She won't know where to find us, love."

"Well, if we tell her she will."

Freddie's smile faltered slightly. He looked between his new wife and Rose. "I'm sorry, Rose," he said. "You're Tommy's now. I can't risk him knowing about us."

"I wouldn't tell him," she said. "I'd keep it between us."

Freddie gave a quick laugh, "Tommy will find out, and then he'll know that you knew about us. He'll ask you. I can't ask you to lie for us, Rose. You'll get into enough trouble coming here."

"And I won't tell him," Rose said. She hated this idea that Tommy suddenly owned her. She wasn't an object to be owned or given away or taken. She was her own person, damnit. She'd fought for that freedom. She'd left everything she knew for this freedom. "Tommy doesn't own me. If I don't want to tell him something, then I don't tell him."

Freddie stared, and then said, "A comrade of mine is giving us a place to stay. Ada will tell you later when we've settled."

She smiled gratefully at him. Ada kissed her goodbye and watched them take off alone. They were happy. She was happy for them. Ada deserved all the happiness in the world.

She walked back home on her own. She could hear her father in her head, no matter how much she tried ignoring it.

' _God doesn't allow no-good, lying sinners into heaven!'_

Rose thought maybe if she prayed, God would understand. She couldn't tell Tommy she knew about their wedding and that she'd know where they were staying. She already knew he wouldn't approve or be happy she lied. It wouldn't be lying, per se. It wasn't lying if she didn't talk about it, right?


	12. Chapter 12

She'd come home, planning on changing for work, when she saw the flowers. Blooming white roses complimenting their blue vase quite nicely, and matching the ribbon sat atop her dresser. Rose never figured Tommy for the flower-giving type. She thought he preferred giving her something a grander than flowers. She looked closely at the tag hanging from the ribbon.

' _I saw these and thought of you. –Arthur.'_

Arthur? She couldn't imagine him giving her flowers either. She'd assumed Arthur gave up his pursuit of her with his behavior recently. He hadn't been as forward as before. She thought he'd let Tommy "have her". These flowers suggested otherwise. She assumed Tommy didn't know about these. She felt the softness of the roses on her fingertips. She sniffed them and took in their fresh scent. She supposed he was apologizing for how he behaved when he'd gotten drunk. The gesture was a bit late, but it didn't matter. It'd been sweet of him. Roses might've been an easy choice, yet she didn't mind in the slightest.

Tommy would though. She knew that much.

She found him when she walked back downstairs, having first changed out of her dress. With the night finally falling, The Garrison filled with the usual nightly crowd. Rose wasn't surprised that people avoided Arthur's gaze and kept their distance from him. They did this with most of the Shelby brothers, especially Arthur and Tommy. He stood by the bar absent one his brothers or gang, and drank his whiskey. When she approached the bar, he turned his head. She saw something in them that gleamed a bit of hope and nerves. She gave him a small smile as she rounded the bar.

"Evening Arthur," she said, "What can I get for you?"

"Well, there's plenty you could give me, but I'll settle for a bottle of whiskey and two glasses."

She laughed, getting him what he asked and setting in front of him. "Thank you for the flowers," she said, "They're beautiful."

He grinned, "Glad you liked them." Arthur looked away from her, pushing hair out of his face, "Look, I'm not-I'm not good with apologies all that much. I-You're a special girl, and-and I ac-acted like an ass. You deserve better than that."

"You did," she said, "But I forgive you, Arthur."

"You do?" he asked, finally looking at her. "I mean," he coughed, "Of course you do. You ought to af-after I got you those n-nice flowers." He paused, "I heard about you and Tommy."

She froze a moment. Rose never once considered the idea that Arthur would find out. Perhaps she saw no harm in it. She stared into his eyes, seeing the disappointment and sadness in them. She began wondering if those flowers really were an apology or something more meaningful.

"Arthur-"

"-it's alright," he said. "You're not the first woman to want Tommy. He'd always been a ladies' man, even if he doesn't want women anymore. It was only a matter of time."

"I-I," she truly didn't have a response. "I didn't think you…"

"Polly used to say I think with my cock too much," he admitted. "I can't really help it. I-I see a woman I like and well…I act the way you'd expect. I didn't know how to-how to tell you that I-I-I think you're gorgeous and-and sweet. You have the sweetest eyes and-and the most beautiful fucking laugh. You're-You're incredible, Rose." He said, "You get on with everybody and anyone who meets you loves you right away. You're...you're a good one, Rose. You just got this goodness about you that-that people sense. It makes them feel good. It makes me feel good. Tommy's a lucky man."

"I'm sorry, Arthur," she said. It was the only thing she could really say to him.

"Just promise me one thing, Rose. If he ever does anything that hurts you in the slightest, you tell me," he said. "I mean anything. You tell me, and I'll set him straight for you. You deserve somebody who's always good to you."

She then said, "And if Tommy turns out not to be that somebody, you'd step in?"

He hesitated, and then shrugged, "I suppose. Maybe. Who knows?"

He took his bottle and glasses and left for the private room. Rose watched him leave. She felt guilty and she didn't truly know why. She could feel it eating her up inside throughout the night. Arthur sat in the private room, leaving his sorrows at the bottom of his whiskey bottle. She suspected John joined him since she heard them both through the window. When he'd asked for another bottle, she refused. Rose told him he should go home and sleep it off instead. He waved her away and asked Harry, who obliged at once.

"Don't worry about him," Harry told her. "He'll just pass out in there. He won't go home completely smashed."

That didn't worry her. She worried that he'd do something rash. Rose hadn't meant to hurt him. She didn't think she could do such a thing. He appeared so strong on his own. A few hours later, she heard the door to the private room open. John came out dragging Arthur with him to one of the chairs. Arthur seemed out of it already. He hadn't passed out, but she saw him slowly getting there. John looked over at her. He said nothing at first, studying her face closely.

"I'm-I'm gonna take him home," he then said. "He can sleep it off at mine. It's closer to here."

"Alright," she nodded.

A silence wafted between them before he said, "I know my brother can be…difficult sometimes, but he really liked you. It's the drink, you know. It does things to him."

"It does things to everybody."

"Yeah, but not like Arthur," he said. "Sometimes the war catches up with him. He drinks to forget. He feels like he's alone in the fight. He tries going dry, and he's good for a while, but then something happens and he's back on the bottle. I think he thought having a woman like you would fix him; he might not be so broken if he had you helping him."

"Why would he think that?"

"The same reason Tommy likes you," he replied, "You're good. You're pure and sweet and all that. I suppose they both think you can bring them some sort of peace. Like, they don't gotta fight it alone, you know?"

"And what do you think?"

John chuckled, switching his toothpick from one side to another, "I think you're bloody gorgeous, but I already got someone. You don't gotta worry about me falling for you too."

They shared a laugh. Rose looked on Arthur, who groaned in his hiccup. "I never meant to lead him on," she said. "I thought he wasn't interested anymore. Tommy told me he wasn't."

"He was a bit drunk when he said what he said," John said. "I don't think he really meant to give you up, but he did, and now he regrets it." Arthur groaned, his words almost incoherent, and John looked back at her, "Well, I gotta get him home." He helped Arthur stand properly, letting his brother slump on his shoulder, and said, "Goodnight Rose."

"Night."

Rose locked up after the pair, but still felt that pang of guilt in her chest. Nobody ever gave her flowers before today; the thought that he'd gone out of his way for her felt special. He wasn't as terrible as he pretended or he might've been and only shared his kindness with her. Tommy was the same, she thought. They both seemed so cold towards the rest of the world, yet she'd warmed them. Rose found it hard to believe that everybody liked her. She wasn't anything special. She was just Rose.

* * *

He sat across from him in the large, quiet room. Tommy personally found the tea room a little too fancy for his taste. Everything was either white or light colored, they put their flowers in porcelain vases and the thin china could've cracked in his hand. It felt like he'd stepped into a museum. All the posh people around them spoke in hushed whispers as if the silence were a fragile thing itself. One of the serving girls gave them tea and some biscuits, but Tommy wouldn't touch them. He didn't have an appetite at the moment. He was too focused on the Inspector.

"Now, how can we be on the same side when I find things like this?" Campbell pulled a prescription paper from his pocket, and placed it on the table. "It was found in the room of a known communist. It has your sister's name on it. It had been obvious she was sleeping in his bed. Are you also in bed with the communists, Mr. Shelby?"

"I don't share their fantasy," Tommy said. "And as for my sister, I've already dealt with the situation."

Tommy raved when he learned Freddie knocked up Ada. Polly told him they'd be going to Camden for the abortion, but sources told him that hadn't happened. His worries certainly weren't bettered when Freddie returned home. He'd been told they left the city together, and would stay away. Good. He didn't need this situation hanging over him either. Campbell then told him how Freddie was at the top of his list, not at the bottom like Rose thought. Tommy would make him part of their deal. Freddie would leave the city in exchange for a few demands.

No more interfering with his business: no more raids in his territory, no more lifting runners, and he'd turn a blind eye to his gambling operations. The inspector would also send word to another chief inspector that when he made his move on Kimber, they'd leave him alone. Kimber ran the legal side betting business, and Tommy planned on taking it from him. These demands seemed a bit too much for Campbell, giving a smug smirk as he leaned back in his seat. Tommy told him if he abided by these terms, he'd give him and his Specials their guns. If he was ever taken into custody, he'd have those guns shipped directly to Liverpool, where they'd then sold to the IRA in Belfast. The IRA having their hands on so much ammunition and weapons would definitely give them the upper hand.

"…When I achieve what I set out to achieve, I'll tell you where to find the guns. You'll be a hero; probably get a medal. I'm a fair man. It's a fair offer. Do we have a deal?"

Campbell considered him for a moment. Then he said, "Very well. But I prefer if we don't shake hands on it."

Tommy nodded, getting up from his seat. The air in the room was stuffy and smelled of perfume. He hated it. He then had a last thought, "One last term."

"Another?"

"Leave Rose Wick alone," Tommy said. "I know you've been interrogating her. I know you're trying to scare her into talking, but you're barking up the wrong tree. Rose doesn't know anything. She's a good girl. Leave her be."

He crossed his arms, "And suppose I don't, hm? Ms. Wick is a peculiar girl for this city. Sweetness and innocence don't reside in Small Heath. I happen to believe there is more to this girl's story than she's telling."

"That story is none of your concern," he said. "She doesn't know anything, so leave her alone or the deal is off and those guns go to Belfast."

"You'd truly risk that for a little thing like her?"

Tommy hesitated. If Campbell asked him this question a few weeks ago, he would've said 'no'. He wouldn't have let a silly little infatuation tear down all he'd built and worked towards. Tommy not going through with the deal would mean the family's arrest. If he gave up his pursuit of Kimber, gave up those guns, and somehow managed avoiding jail time, he'd be back at the bottom. Tommy was tired of being at the bottom tier. He'd take his family to the top by any means necessary. Yet, the thought of Rose becoming part of somebody's retaliation made him question everything. The Lees might come after her; Campbell might continue interrogating her. Rose wasn't like Grace, who'd fight them off herself. She was softer. She couldn't hurt anyone, despite how much they hurt her. She needed protection. He'd make sure she got just that.

"Yes," he finally answered.

Once he started walking away, Campbell called after him, "It's a shame you didn't show this much devotion for Grace."

Tommy stopped in his tracks. The name resonated a feeling within him he couldn't recognize anymore. Her name brought her face to the forefront of his mind. Her rosy cheeks, her bright eyes, and her soft blonde hair all came back to him like a dream. He could hear her laugh in his head. She haunted him more than usual these days. Tommy turned around, "What?"

"Grace Burgess," Campbell said, grabbing his pipe from his pocket and stuffing tobacco in it. "You didn't have such worry for her when she was your sweetheart."

"Things were different back then," he answered. "They weren't as dangerous."

"Or perhaps you didn't care enough."

No. No maybe he hadn't. "Good day, Inspector," Tommy said before leaving the tea room.


	13. Chapter 13

**Hey again everyone! Listen, Fanfic is having review syncing problems (again), but thankfully I moderate guest reviews so I can only read those. So, some of you might not know if you're double reviewing or not. I don't even get emails anymore. I hope I'm not the only one this is happening to :(**

* * *

He found him in the church sitting alone. This hadn't been the first time Tommy came about Arthur in this state. The past few years weren't kind to Arthur Shelby. He'd suffered through war, through pain and through agony. He'd tried hanging himself at least twice in the past years. Tommy remembered cutting him down when he started kicking and gurgling from his ceiling. He knew what it was about, and he hated the confrontation that would come.

Tommy spotted the bottle on the pew and moved it away from Arthur. He sat there with his elbows on his knees and hair covering his face. Tommy could already feel the sadness and rage pouring out in equal measures. Arthur couldn't handle such pressures all at once anymore. He had too much bottled up. The drink supposedly made it better, but not always. It only masked the pain for a short time until he woke up again. He took the seat next to his brother and listened.

"People keep asking me questions that I don't know the answers to," Arthur began. "'Is it true your Ada got married?' I say, 'I don't know.' They ask, 'Where she living now?' I say, 'I don't know'. They say, 'Arthur…who killed the Paddy from the Black Swan?" I say 'What Paddy?' They go, 'Was it your Peaky Blinders that stole the guns from the BSA factory?'" He looked at Tommy, "What guns, Tommy?"

"Arthur, after the beating, I thought you needed a break-"

"-What bloody guns, Tommy?!" he shouted.

Tommy settled him down, bringing him close and speaking in a hushed tone. "Arthur, listen to me. These past few years have been hard on you. God knows they have. You deserved some rest. We got some luck," he smiled, "Some bloody luck. It fell off a wagon and into our laps. All you need to know is we got the machine guns now and they're the ones in the mud. All right?"

"And Rose? When were you gonna tell me about you two, huh? Didn't think I'd find out, did ya?" He heard the jealousy in Arthur's voice. Tommy knew the guns weren't Arthur's only concern. "The whole fucking town knows about you two, and you sit there acting like nothing's going on."

"Arthur," Tommy said, "It just happened, alright? It just happened."

"Do you love her?" he asked. When Tommy didn't answer, he said, "Do you love her?!"

"That's a complicated question, Art-"

"-No, it ain't," he snarled. "It's a simple question. You either love her or you don't. There ain't no in between."

' _Do you even know the word?'_ Freddie Thorne's words ran back to him. Freddie said he loved Ada and she loved him at gunpoint. He recalled meeting with him earlier that day. Tommy came about the guns, and Tommy told him he wouldn't drag Ada down with him. They would put her on his arrest warrant if they didn't give him up. Yet, he said he loved Ada.

He thought on his own feelings for Rose. Tommy honestly couldn't answer. He certainly carried feelings for Rose, and he'd kissed her a few times, but did he love her? Did she make him happy? He hardly knew the feelings anymore. They were strangers to him. Most men would ask how he could not love her. He didn't deserve her love, is what he would've said.

"Listen to me," Arthur then said, "If you're just stringing that girl along and you ain't in love with her, then leave her alone. 'Cause I swear to fucking God here and now, if you do anything to hurt that woman, I'll kill you myself."

Tommy stared at him. He'd never thought he'd hear such words from him. "You really care about her, don't you?"

"I do," he said. "She might not love me, and she probably never will, but she's a good, decent woman and she doesn't deserve to be played with. If you hurt her in any way, I'll-"

"-Kill me, I know," Tommy finished. He stood up, "Come on. I got a surprise for you. Come on."

* * *

Rose spent a majority of her life feeling nervous about things. When she woke up the day of the races, her churning stomach seemed like an old friend. Waiting for the water to boil, she walked over to her dress hanging on the wall. The same midnight blue dress she and Ada talked about hung on her wall by the dresser. Rose touched over the smooth fabric dotted in shiny rhinestones that shimmered down and hemmed the many layers of the dress. She'd told Ada it might be too short, but Ada insisted the length was fine. Tommy would drool over it, she said. Rose hoped not. She wasn't there for Tommy's leering from what she understood. She hadn't dared take it out of the plastic cover. She worried the mice might get to it or she'd accidentally ruin it bathing.

She looked over to her dresser where a small velvet box sat by the mirror; a present from Polly. She'd told Rose every girl should have at least the basic make-up, especially if she was going somewhere formal. Rose picked up a small compact with a red powder in it. She wasn't sure where to put it, but she guessed it'd be her cheeks? She saw a pair of metal tweezers. What in God's name was _this_ used for? She set the items back in the box and closed it. Rose took the whistling kettle off the stove, pouring water through the tea filter. She'd end up looking like a clown. She knew it. Oh, she could feel the embarrassment already.

The tea and oatmeal didn't make her stomach any better.

She'd been pouring water into her usual washing basin when a knock came at the door. It couldn't be Tommy. It was far too early in the morning, and he would probably have waited downstairs for her. Pulling on her dressing gown, she walked to the door and answered.

"Oh good, you haven't started without me," Polly said, walking into the apartment carrying two shopping bags. She set her hat down on the bed with her coat.

"Um, good morning, Polly," Rose said.

"Cheltenham is today, isn't it?" Polly asked.

"Yes. It is."

Polly looked at her expectantly, "Then what are you waiting for? Wash yourself up. Where's your dress? Oh, there it is." She took the dress off the hook and examined it. "This is gorgeous. You're going to look heavenly in this."

"Polly, I-I don't mean to sound upset or anything but-"

"-You're wondering why I'm here?" she asked. When Rose nodded, she said, "Rose, I know you're a bright, clever, resourceful woman, but," she hesitated, "You're not very good at dressing up."

Rose sighed, hanging her head, "I know. I haven't had much experience with this stuff."

"But," Polly said, walking over to her and lifting her chin, "That isn't your fault. I'm here to help."

Rose grinned. She'd only ever seen her mother put on make-up once, and then she'd been too young. She had found magazines in the basement, but they were old and outdated. She never had anyone teach her about rouge or lipsticks or eye shadow before. Yet, here was Polly, eager and ready. Rose took off her robe and began running the sponge over herself. Polly busied herself with taking out small black boxes from the bags along with a shoe box. A thought came to her suddenly.

"Polly?"

"Hm?"

"Who was Grace?"

Rose hadn't truly taken this mysterious girl from her mind. Drying off the wet parts of her body, she looked over her shoulder. Polly stood still. She held onto the box in her hands, hesitant to speak.

"She was…" Polly searched around for the words, "She was Tommy's childhood sweetheart."

"Ada told me that much," Rose said, "She didn't say _who_ she was."

"She was Tommy's first big love, wasn't she?" Polly sighed. "She was this pretty little Irish girl who came into our neighborhood with her parents. They were the well-to-do types who thought they were too good for the likes of Birmingham He was head-over-heels for her. He'd do anything she asked of him."

"What were they doing here?" Rose covered herself again, taking a seat on the bed as Polly pulled out jewelry from the boxes. "If they were so well off?"

"Her father was the Chief Inspector," Polly said. "He was sent here to 'clean up the streets', but the most he did was put away a few gangsters."

"And I suppose Grace liked bad boys then?"

Polly scoffed, "Oh she did. She was just as bad herself though she often pretended otherwise. I guess that's why Tommy liked her so much. She was one of those 'I'm-not-your-average-girl' types. She'd get into as much trouble as the boys, but the only difference was she never paid for it."

"Sounds like you didn't like her very much."

"Not at all," Polly said. "She didn't love Tommy. She loved what he represented. He was this rebellious, dangerous bad boy with a fancy car. She thought dating him would be rebelling against her parents, who obviously didn't approve of Tommy. I will admit she was ambitious and fearless. She had her own ambitions which clashed with Tommy's very often. She definitely helped keep our business afloat while the men were at war."

"What happened though? Where'd she go?"

"She left," Polly shrugged. "It crushed Tommy's heart when he came home and found she'd left."

"Why did she leave?" she asked.

"She couldn't take the life anymore," she answered. "The Rooks moved into our territory, and things were pretty serious for a time. It wasn't all fun and games anymore. One day Ada and I came into the shop, and she'd disappeared. Lucky her. She had a family she could run back to; the rest of us were stuck here." She looked back at Rose, "But don't worry about her. She's in the past."

' _Just because she's in the past doesn't mean he doesn't care for her,'_ Rose thought as she began putting on her undergarments.

"How's Ada doing?" she asked, trying to forget this mysterious Grace woman. "The baby?"

"They're fine," she answered. "Freddie's got them all holed up in some basement. Ugh, you should see the place. Ada's used to some much better than that."

"She was in here the other day," Rose said. "She came in here yelling about how Tommy was going to kill Freddie for staying in town. It took me forever to calm her down."

"I know. She told me," she replied, pulling out stockings and garter belts for Rose from the bag. "She said Freddie went to confront Tommy, and they had it out, but thankfully they both came back alive. Ada's been completely ousted from the family now."

"Really? Tommy would do that?"

"He has no choice. I tried giving them money and tickets, but he still wouldn't go. Tommy said that inspector was going to put Ada in prison for sedition if we didn't give up Freddie. He wanted them gone, but you know men and their pride."

She thought of the two men as she continued dressing. Polly said that Tommy didn't approve of their marriage. Did they really need his approval? Ada was happy with Freddie. They loved each other. Freddie was even willing to kill or die for Ada and their child. Why did Tommy want to stand in the way of that? It was all very confusing to her. Polly helped her with the stockings and garter belts. She sat her down by the dresser to do her make-up and hair, still thinking of the whole situation. She remembered the worry and fear on Ada's sweaty face when she came to the pub. The baby kicked from the stress. It took her a while before Ada sat down and drank water. She said they'd kill each other.

Polly pinned up her hair so it appeared shorter, small ringlets left curtaining her face and added a rhinestone headband; the make-up stayed light and natural. Rose felt strange dolled up. She'd never felt so pretty and powdered in her whole life. Looking at herself in the mirror, she couldn't believe it was her.

"You look beautiful," Polly said.

"Do you think he'll like it?" Rose asked her.

"He'll love it."

Rose wondered if Billy Kimber would like it. She was going there to impress him after all; that must be the reason Tommy invited her in the first place. Otherwise, Tommy wouldn't have asked her. Impressing Mr. Kimber was a key element in Tommy's plan. If she failed, Tommy might not get what he wanted. She was sure Tommy wouldn't ask for more than light conversation and some dancing with Kimber.

He stood at the bar downstairs, throwing back his usual whiskey. When he looked over his shoulder at her, she gasped softly. He was a dream. Standing in his tailored suit, freshly shaven and neatly cut, she admired him as she came down. Flat cap tucked into his jacket pocket, he put the empty glass down as she approached him. She felt a blush come on as she thought about kissing him. Not how they usually did either. She wanted those long, heated kisses he gave her in private rooms or in his car. Rose wanted his hands on her hips and her arms around his neck. Yet, she restrained herself.

"What do you think?" she asked.

"Perfect."

She said goodbye to Polly as he led her outside to his car. It felt so unnatural. She'd never imagine in a million years she'd be so lucky. For a moment, she worried this might be another fanciful dream of hers. Any second she'd wake up and find herself in her apartment or worse. However, when Tommy put his hand on her knee, she knew it wasn't a dream.

* * *

Cheltenham held up to the standards Rose expected. She saw ladies dressed in all their finery and gentlemen in tailored suits and shiny shoes. She could hear a band playing inside the large ballroom, and envisioned lots of couples on the dance floor or occupying the tables around it. Over the shoulders of the queue, she could see a crystal chandelier that hung high above the rest, the light giving vibrancy to the decorative red curtains and gold accents on the columns. She guessed the entrance was quite grand too. She wouldn't know since she and Tommy entered from the back way where the jockeys readied themselves for the races. He told her Kimber's men couldn't see him just yet or they'd know something was up.

She looked at the others in the queue for the door and felt out of place. They all seemed so rich and luxurious. Her dress was nothing in comparison to theirs. She felt eyes on her even though not a soul glanced her way. Rose spotted the stocky doorman checking off names on a list, and looked back to Tommy.

"Tommy, are we on that list?" she asked.

"Of course not," he answered. "Not with our real names anyways. You're Lady Catelyn of Edinburgh, and I'm your Prussian guest who doesn't speak English."

"What?"

"Names, please," the doorman interrupted.

"Lady Catelyn," she instantly said. "This is my guest, um, Gustave."

Tommy only gave him a broad smile. The doorman looked over his clipboard and then unhooked the velvet rope. She smiled gratefully and walked passed, feeling butterflies in her stomach. Once he was out of earshot, Tommy said, "Gustave? Really?"

"Well, you never gave me a name for you and that was the first one I thought of."

They walked on the second floor, which overlooked the dancers on the bottom floor. She saw waiters bringing drinks to tables, people laughing and conversing without a care in the world, and throngs of people by the bar below. Rose drank in everything around her. The vibrant colors, the lights, the band and performers on stage with them all drew her in immediately. She only found such things in her books. Years in a dark, dank basement made her believe such wonder didn't exist. The cherry on top was Tommy standing beside her at the railing. She longed for such freedom. Rose could already hear His voice in her head.

' _No daughter of mine will go to such places looking like a painted whore.'_

For once, the words couldn't touch her. The warmth of the room washed over her and drowned out the angry voice in her head.

"Is this what it's like to be rich?" she asked. She turned to see Tommy already staring at her. She flushed. "I mean, it's-it's that they're all dressed so nice and they seem almost careless and free."

"It is," he said. "Most of the people in this room are important somehow: politicians, wealthy business men, nobility. They have nothing to worry about because they already have everything."

"I wonder what that must be like," she said. "Even for a moment."

He stayed silent, and then said, "Do you dance?"

She stared at him. "I've never really danced before. I did once with a boy named Jonathan, but I'd been seven-years-old."

He offered her his arm, "Then may I be the first proper one?"

She smiled, "Yes."

She took his arm and they went down to the bottom floor. He put one hand on her waist and held up the other while she kept her hand on his shoulder. Rose stood close enough to kiss him, though she refrained. They moved in time to the music. Rose remembered most of the steps little freckled Jonathan did with her all those years ago. He'd been showing her how to dance properly behind his house because all the teenagers had gone to a barn dance nearby. He said his older brother taught him. This was certainly better than Jonathan.

"See? You're a natural," he said.

She giggled, "If I didn't know any better, Mr. Shelby, I'd think you were flirting with me."

"Rose," the hand on her waist moved to the small of her back, his lips close to her ear, "I've kissed you. I've held you. I've rode with you on horseback, had a picnic with you, and now danced with you. I think I'm allowed at least a little bit of flirting, don't you?"

She grinned like an idiot, "When you put it that way, I suppose." She then asked, "When does the race start?"

"In an hour or so," he said. "We could go out to the stands and watch, if you like."

"I thought you said if we had time, we would," she said.

"Well, I changed my mind." His small smile faded and he said, "I want you to be happy, Rose."

She didn't know how to respond and frankly, he didn't know how to follow up. Rose simply grinned at him. "Tommy," she said timidly, "I wanted to talk about Ada and Freddie-"

"-Not here, Rose-"

"-But Tommy, if you just saw them together like I did, then maybe you wouldn't think that Freddie is using her. He really loves her Tommy-"

"-I'm not talking about this here," he said firmly.

"I don't care," she replied. "What you're doing to them isn't fair."

"No, what Freddie is doing isn't fair to Ada," he retorted. "He could've left with her. I even told him to. Polly even fucking offered them money and tickets away from here, and he still didn't leave. He's too attached to his bloody cause to care about the danger he could put Ada in. If he cared about her so much, why didn't he go? Hm?"

She couldn't really answer him. "Why don't you ask Freddie that?"

"Rose," he said, "Don't talk about things you don't understand-"

"-I understand that you're throwing your sister aside because she married somebody you don't approve of," she spat. "I don't get you. You're so willing to throw out people if they don't do as you ask. You're the boss, so everyone has to listen to you or else. Even your own family. Your own sister. I would've killed for a sister, did you know that? I would've loved a brother or a sister or an aunt or an uncle. I have nobody and you have everybody."

"That's not true," he said, "You have us. You have me."

She stared at him. "Please Tommy," she said, "Just reconsider it? Freddie's isn't doing what he's doing because of his cause or the guns. He's with Ada because he loves her. Freddie getting her pregnant wasn't part of some scheme for his cause or to become somebody. The baby was just," she searched for the words, "The baby was a happy accident."

Tommy snorted, "Accident is definitely the right term."

"Tommy," she said. "She's your sister. Your only sister. She'll need her family more than anything now, and it wouldn't help if you shut her out."

"You don't understand, Rose," he said.

"Then help me understand," she replied. "I'm tired of not knowing anything. I hate being this person on the sideline while everyone else suffers-"

"-You've suffered enough," he said. He pulled back the rhinestone cuff on her wrist, revealing her scars, "This proves it. Please, don't concern yourself with this right now. Please?" He pressed his forehead to hers, "Let's just forget it for now? Let's forget that I'm me and that you're you."

She decided she'd drop the subject for now. She wouldn't ruin their time together. "Then who would we be?"

He smirked, "Well, we'd be Lady Catelyn and her companion, _Gustave_."

They shared a laugh. The both of them danced slowly, even though the music changed. She'd almost forgotten why they'd come to the races before his eyes shifted behind her. "And there he is," he said. "Billy Kimber."

She looked over her shoulder to a table in the corner. There sat three men and two women. One of the men she instantly assumed was Billy Kimber by his obvious misplacement in the group of well-dressed people. They all appeared a higher class than he even just by sitting there in the elegant chairs. He had slick black hair and a thin mustache over his lip, wearing a fine pin-striped suit. He sat with a man wearing a monocle and sporting a similar outfit to Kimber's. He carried an air of arrogance about him, especially when he leaned into the woman beside him with a grin.

"Come," he said, taking her hand and leading her away. "We're going to see The King."


	14. Chapter 14

He met Arthur at the backdoor. The man dropped off large satchels of betting slips and money, which he'd stolen back from the Lee brothers. Tommy now had what he needed for a meeting with Billy Kimber. If Billy Kimber knew how much money the Lee family stole from his bookies, then he might consider doing business with them. The Peaky Blinders would be much better suited for protection than his current men. Arthur looked over at Rose, who stood a few feet away from him. Tommy glanced at his brother in awe of Rose.

"You look beautiful," he said to her. "You can wear that to my pub someday."

"Your pub?" Rose questioned.

"He didn't tell you? I own the Garrison now."

Rose looked at Tommy in surprise, but he didn't respond. She turned to Arthur. "You're hurt," she said, coming close and touching his bloody cheek. "What happened?"

"Some of the Lee boys put up a fight," he said, "It's just some cuts and bruises. Nothing you couldn't fix for me, eh?"

"Clean it up and put on some ice," she said in a small smile. "You'll be fine."

He winked at her before Tommy slipped money in his pocket. Tommy told him, "Buy the boys a beer."

He patted his brother on the shoulder, and he and Rose cut away to the room. "Stay here by the bar," he said, "I'll be back in a few."

"Why can't I come with you? Wouldn't you want him to see me?"

Tommy halted. He didn't want Kimber anywhere near Rose now. He couldn't subject her to a man like Kimber. "Just wait here." He'd think of an alternative.

Tommy made straight for Kimber's table, where his accountant Roberts sat beside him with three others. Two of them were an elderly couple, clearly very wealthy, and the third was a dark-haired woman with red lipstick and a revealing black dress. Tommy didn't mind them. The man he came for was Kimber. He dumped the bags Arthur gave him on the table, emptying one of them of its money and slips. Kimber looked at him in surprise, but the old man on his left seemed impressed.

"Your money, Mr. Kimber," Tommy said, taking a seat, "Taken from the Lee brothers and returned to you with a request for a fair hearing."

The old man spoke at once, turning to Kimber, "I thought you said you had the Lee family under control."

"I don't know what he's talking about, Mr. Weston," Kimber said, keeping his eyes on Tommy.

"Billy," the man said sternly, as if scolding a child, "When I came to you about the Lee family skimming money from the top and your men slacking off, you said you'd taken care of it."

"I did."

"Well clearly," he gestured to the bags, "Not well enough." The man then motioned to one of the men behind him, whispering in his ear before the guard nodded and walked away. He turned to Tommy, "From what I understand, you're one of those Peaky Blinders."

Tommy looked between Kimber and the old man. He wore a fine navy blue suit with a red pocket square. White hair combed back from his receding hair line, his green eyes reminded him of someone else's for an instant. Tommy instantly understood the situation. "I am," he put a hand forward, "Thomas Shelby, sir."

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Shelby," the man said, shaking his hand. "I am Richard Weston. I own this racetrack."

The name struck him as familiar, but he didn't pursue the suspicion. "Do you?" Tommy glimpsed at the apprehensive Kimber, "I was under the impression Mr. Kimber ran this racetrack."

"Oh he does," he said. "He runs the side betting for me. You know, the bookies, the chalkers, and sometimes-though I rather we handle it otherwise-the cutters. An old man like me has a lot on his plate these days, so I admit I do require some help. That's where Mr. Roberts and Mr. Kimber come in for me."

"So, you run the show around here?" Tommy asked taking out a cigarette and lighting it.

"I do," he replied, "I prefer to stay behind the scenes instead. I have a reputation to uphold, you see."

"Of course," he nodded.

"My husband absolutely loves the races," the woman beside him said. "He inherited Cheltenham from his father. He insisted he keep it." A sequined dress covered most of her and her gloves were made of real satin. Real white pearls hung from her neck, matching the bracelet on her wrist and the barrette in her salt and pepper hair. "Prudence Weston," she introduced herself, "And this lovely lady is my daughter, Charlotte."

Charlotte extended a hand after her mother, "Nice to meet you, Mr. Shelby."

"And you."

"Now, Mr. Shelby, seeing as you have returned our money to us," Mr. Weston began, "I assume you have a proposition in mind?"

"I do," he nodded. "Kimber's men have been taking cuts from the Lee family. I propose you contract your security to the Peaky Blinders. We'd be saving you all a lot of money."

"And in return?"

"In return, you give us five percent of the take, and three legal betting pitches at every race meeting north of the River Severn; rising to six if we're all satisfied with the service."

Mr. Weston mulled over the information, and then said, "I've heard about you lot before. I do business down in Birmingham, and the Chief Inspector there is an acquaintance of mine." He then chortled, "You all give him a lot of trouble."

"You get trouble if you come around asking for it, Mr. Weston."

He laughed, "That is true. That is certainly true. Mr. Kimber, what do you think of this? I'd like your take as well, Mr. Roberts."

"He certainly is direct, Mr. Weston," Roberts said. "I will give him that much."

"I'll leave it to Roberts," Kimber said, withholding the irritation within in. "Ms. Weston," he turned to Charlotte, "May I have this dance?"

Charlotte said, "Sure. Why not?"

The two of them walked away to the dance floor. There go his plans for Rose. He supposed it was for the best. He didn't think he'd liked Kimber's paws all over Rose. Mr. Weston sighed, "Ugh, that man. He acts like a child when he's humiliated."

"Serves him right for not doing his job," his wife scoffed. "What are you paying him for if not to run this place properly?"

"Prudence," Mr. Weston warned. "Don't rile yourself up."

Prudence took a deep breath and a drink. "I know, dear. It's just…ugh, I hate that man, and Charlotte's not too fond of him either."

"Mr. Shelby," Mr. Roberts addressed him, "How many men can you put into the field at one time?"

"There are a lot of men out of work at the moment," he said, "Two guards for every bookie at every meeting."

"You can supply that many men?" Weston asked.

"I can," Tommy said. "I have some good contacts amongst the gypsies. We'll always know when the Lees plan to attack."

"That's certainly a relief," Weston said. "Those bloody gypsies. They've been giving us hell since Kimber started working for me. I sometimes think he's the cause of this fuss."

"Now, Mr. Weston, that's certainly not true," Roberts said. "The Lees only attacked when you took your own men off security. They know your men aren't as soft as Mr. Kimber's. They wouldn't have dared if they knew your men still lurked about."

"I told you it was a mistake," Prudence added.

"Kimber assured me he could keep his men in line," Weston sighed. "Seems I was wrong. How can I trust your men won't take cuts either, Mr. Shelby?"

"My men are more honest."

Weston grinned, "And so are mine." He took a sip of his wine, and then said, "Well, for five percent and some betting pitch licenses, I'd call that a fair deal. Wouldn't you, Mr. Roberts?"

"Absolutely, sir." Roberts nodded, wiping his glasses. Tommy then realized who he shared a table with.

Kimber and Charlotte reappeared at the table. Tommy could see the woman hiding her disgust behind a fake smile. Kimber looked between the three men. "I'm supposing we all made some kind of a deal?"

"We have," Weston said. "However, I would like to discuss it some more. I never go into business with a man without knowing him first. Perhaps we can talk over details at dinner tonight at my estate?"

Tommy nodded, "Absolutely, sir."

"Wonderful," Weston beamed. "Mr. Roberts, surely you'll be joining us?"

"If it pleases you, sir," Roberts said.

"Of course it would," he said. "And I assume your companion will be coming with you?" He nodded over to Rose.

"She will be," he answered.

"She seems like a lovely girl," Charlotte said over her champagne glass. "I can't wait to meet her."

"She is," Tommy agreed.

"Charlotte," Kimber leaned to her, "I thought you and I might go back to mine. It's only a few miles away."

She kept her eyes on Rose from afar, "I changed my mind. I'm going to grab another drink. I'll call you, Billy."

She stood up from the table, leaving the disappointed Kimber in her wake. "Women," he grumbled, taking a drink from his glass. "Your daughter truly is a wonder, Mr. Weston."

"Or maybe you're not the ladies' man you think you are," Prudence sniped. "I'm going to powder my nose before the races. Excuse me." She left the table, flanked by one of Weston's men.

"Oh would you look at the time!" Weston checked his pocket watch, "The race will be starting soon. Mr. Shelby, care to join us in our box? There's plenty of room."

Mr. Weston wouldn't be refused. His granddad once told him as much. Tommy nodded, exhaling smoke from his cigarette, "Absolutely, sir."

Weston patted his back when they stood. Kimber moved to join them both, but Weston said, "Mr. Kimber, I think you have more pressing matters on your hands than races at the moment. Such as what to do about the dishonesty amongst your men. Back in my day, we kept a handle on our men when they crossed us. Roberts, you keep running the numbers. We still have bets to account for."

"Yes, sir."

Kimber and Roberts stayed at the table as they left for the door. "I couldn't have Roberts eavesdropping on us," he said. "He works for me, but I know he's Kimber's man."

"That's why you only talked business in front of him," Tommy guessed.

"Yes, and maybe a few remarks about Kimber's work," Weston shrugged. "You gather your companion and come to box 3."

"I'll see you there."

They shook hands and separated. Tommy let out a deep breath as he walked back to Rose. He could feel his heart racing and nerves tingling. He never thought he'd ever meet such a person. He reached Rose at the bar, asking for a whiskey right away. Tommy thought back to the deal at the table. Yes, he'd gotten what he wanted, but he received so much more than that. Opportunity once again laid good fortune in front of him.

"How did it go with Kimber?" she asked. She watched him down his whiskey. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he breathed. "Listen, Kimber's not the big boss I thought he was. The plan's off."

"What plan?"

"The plan where he'd ask to sleep with you," he said. "I thought he'd ask but-"

"-But he was more interested in that other woman," she finished. "She was very beautiful. I could understand why he picked her."

"Are you-Are you disappointed?" Tommy asked her incredulously.

"No," she instantly remarked. "I just mean, you'd been planning this for a long time and I know you expected so much out of me, so I didn't want to disappoint you." She hung her head, but he lifted her chin.

"Don't ever feel that you disappoint me," he told her. "You wouldn't have liked Kimber. He's a spineless, arrogant bastard. You deserve better." He kissed her cheek, and said, "We'll be dining with Richard Weston and his family tonight."

"Who? Why?"

"Because he's the real boss and crossing him is never a good idea." He finished off Rose's drink, and then took her hand, "We're going to watch the races with them."

"A box? They must be rich then."

"Very rich and very dangerous," he brought her to his side, putting his arm around her waist. "I want you to stay close to me."

"Why?"

"Because I don't know his intentions yet," he said.

"And if he asks for me?"

He looked at her as they reached the stairs to the private boxes. Tommy considered his reply before saying, "Then it might get ugly."

He accompanied her to the top of the stairs when a voice called out to him. "Mr. Shelby?" He turned and saw Prudence at the bottom, holding out her hand, "Would you mind helping an old lady up these stairs? My knees aren't what they used to be."

"Not at all," Tommy said. "Wait for me here," he told Rose before heading down.

Prudence took his arm and they proceeded upwards. She walked one step at a time, but seemed perfectly fine otherwise. "You are a very ambitious young man," she said, "Not to mention very bold. Not many men have such a way about them in front of my husband."

"That much was obvious with Kimber and Roberts."

She laughed, "Kimber is a scoundrel and Roberts is a rat. I dislike them both, but they're very good at what they do. Well, Roberts is anyway. Kimber could use some improvements."

"Or be replaced completely."

She eyed him, a grin coming up on her painted lips, "That too."

They reached the top of the steps where Rose stood. Prudence stopped in place when she spotted her. Her smile vanished immediately, replaced by shock. "You must," she said nearly breathless, "You must be Mr. Shelby's companion. My…you are a beauty."

Rose smiled, "Thank you, ma'am."

"This is Rose Wick," Tommy said. "Rose, this is Prudence Weston, Mr. Weston's wife."

"Very nice to meet you, Mrs. Weston."

"Wick, is it?" she said, shaking Rose's hand.

"Yes, ma'am."

She didn't speak for a moment, studying Rose's face very carefully. "Interesting. Like a candle wick. Though, Rose suits you so much better."

"Thank you," Rose said.

Prudence shook her head and smiled again, "Let us be off. Richard will throw a fit if we miss any of the races."

Rose walked between Prudence and Tommy. He noticed Prudence's occasional glances at Rose. She seemed unsure about something. Tommy knew he'd have to be on his guard now. They reached the box where they found Charlotte and Weston sitting at the seats. Tommy spotted more men this time. Two at the corners of the box and two at the door told him Weston kept himself well watched and protected.

"Ah, Mr. Shelby," Weston said. He looked at Rose, and gave the same stunned expression his wife had given. "And this is…?"

"This is Rose," his wife answered. "Isn't she lovely?"

"Ah well, I'm sure there's more to her that just looks, Prudence," Weston said. "Don't you think so, Charlotte?"

Charlotte approached carefully, observing every inch of Rose first, "Yes, there is, I'm sure. I'm Charlotte Weston," she said. "This is my father, Richard."

She smiled at all of them, but Tommy knew the attention worried her. "Rose works for me," he suddenly said, "She's my assistant. Isn't that right, Rosie?"

She met his eyes. He raised his eyebrows at her expectantly, and she complied. "Yes, um yes I just work for him. It's nothing serious. At all."

"Very generous of your employer to bring you," Charlotte said. She rang an arm around Rose's, "Have you ever been to the races before?"

Tommy never heard Rose's answer. Prudence and Charlotte swarmed around her like bees to a flower. Rose looked nervously over at Tommy. They hadn't planned on this. He hadn't even considered this until they'd arrived. Rose would never give the game away, but he didn't very well know the Westons either. Regardless, he knew she'd be safe in such a protected room. Tommy took a seat beside Richard, both of them looking out onto the racetrack. He could see the jockeys guiding their horses across the field, each horse being announced as they walked by the cheering crowd.

"Which one is yours?" Tommy asked.

"Little Lady," he answered. "He's one of my best. I normally don't race my horses, but it'd been a while since Little Lady saw the track, and my grandson was eager to ride her."

"Your grandson's a jockey?"

"Not professionally. Albert's always loved horses. It's partially why I kept the track when it came under my management. My usual jockey had to sit this meet out cause of his leg, so Albert decided to step in."

"I'm assuming Albert is Charlotte's son?"

"Oh yes," he nodded. "Her eldest. She also has the twins, Jane and Hazel. I was hoping my son Peter would show, but alas he's in Eygpt on an excavation."

"An archeologist? You have impressive children, Mr. Weston."

He chuckled, lighting a cigarette for himself, "Us Westons strive for success. I always encourage my children and grandchildren to 'go for the gold' as they say."

Tommy finally said, "Mr. Weston, there's something I must tell you."

"Please, feel free."

"I apologize for what happened downstairs," he said. "Had I known I was meeting with a local legend, I wouldn't have been so brash."

Weston looked over at Tommy, and then laughed heartily. "Oh ho, ho," he said, "I wondered if you'd recognized me."

Tommy joined in with a smile, "How could I forget Richard the Reaper? My granddad used to talk about you in the betting shop. He said, 'If you ever cross Richard, he'll introduce you to The Grim Reaper.'"

Richard dismissed the name with a hand and a laugh. "Your granddad," he said, his laughter simmering down, "I always told him he should've been a poet, not a gangster."

"You were friends, then? I was always under the impression it was the opposite."

"Don't get me wrong, Michael Shelby and I had our differences and occasional brawls, but we respected one another," he said. "We were both savvy men with high ambitions. He kept to Birmingham and I kept to London." He glanced sideways at Tommy, "And it seems you've followed in his footsteps."

"No, sir," Tommy said. "I plan on becoming legitimate. My granddad would never have considered that."

He shook his head, "No. Michael always taunted me for wanting something more honest than smuggling, robbing and killing." He then said, "So, you're looking to become a legitimate businessman, hm? I'm assuming you're starting with ousting out Mr. Kimber?"

Tommy didn't answer as he watched the horses be lined up in their starting stables. "Yes, I am."

"Well, my boy, I can certainly help you with that."

The starting gun went off with a bang and the horses were off.


	15. Chapter 15

Their house was marvelous. She'd never seen a mansion so large. It sat amongst trees and shrubbery surrounded by a stream. She and Tommy drove over the small bridge leading onto the estate, and she took in the red-tiled house ahead of them. Painted completely white, the windows stood tall and narrow. The roof slanted this way and that, but the most notable piece was the dome-shaped glass ceiling in the back. She assumed this housed a conservatory or a sun room. The gravel driveway went around in a circle at the front gate, a garden of blooming flowers in the middle. She'd only imagined homes like this one. It was incredible. She glanced at Tommy, and he seemed unfazed by the home.

"They live here?"

"I'm assuming so," he answered, "Unless we're breaking into someone else's home."

His joke relieved her nerves. She needed the relief. Rose had sat with Prudence and Charlotte during the races. The two women seemed more interested in her than the races. They asked her if she liked working for Tommy, and if it their relationship was strictly business related. Rose told them 'yes', though they didn't appear convinced. They'd both been outrageously generous and kind. They offered her hors d'oeuvres and refreshments that Rose took kindly. The whiskey stung her throat, and she didn't really favor the wine, yet she drank each in small doses. She didn't want to seem rude.

"What did they ask you?" Tommy questioned as they reached the gate.

"They asked me about you," she said, "And if I liked working for you. They asked me about The Garrison too. They seemed upset that I lived above a pub."

"Everyone who meets you reacts that way," he said.

"Well, I don't know why. Harry was kind enough to offer me the flat, and I'm happy with it."

"Are you?"

"Yes," she said. "I know it's not a five-star hotel or a fancy mansion; it does have its flaws, but I find it comfortable enough."

"Rose," he sighed, "Your stove is faulty; you have rusty pipes, and a grimy window you can't see out of, a tub you can't use and mice. It has more than a few flaws."

She fiddled with the end of her dress, "It could a bit of fixing, but I'm not rich, Tommy. I don't have the money or the time to hire someone."

"No. I guess you don't."

They reached the front steps where Charlotte waited for them. She was what HE would've called 'a modern woman'. Independence and confidence radiated off her and He hated that sort of thing. Rose admired it. She stood atop the stone steps with a drink in her hand and a smile on her face. Rose wished she could have such self-assurance. Charlotte's stance demanded respect and wasn't afraid to do so.

"Mr. Shelby, Rose," she said, "Welcome to Weston Manor."

"It's amazing," Rose said, still looking up at the house, "Thank you for inviting us."

"You're very welcome," she replied. "Mum and Dad love having guests," she linked arms with Rose, "Especially since us kids are now grown and out of the house."

"I'm sure you all still visit," Tommy said, following the two women into the main hall.

"But of course," Charlotte said, "Well, as often as we can anyways."

White and airy. The walls, the floors, and even the staircase were white, giving support for the natural light coming in through the tall windows by the door. She spotted a chandelier hanging from the high ceiling, but she assumed this was only lit during the night. She assumed the rest of the house was the same. Her heels clicked on the linoleum floors, and she could see her reflection in them. The house carried some age with it. She could tell from the old portrait of an old couple hanging at the landing where the staircase split in two.

"I'm guessing every Weston who's ever lived owned this house?" she asked.

Charlotte giggled, "Indeed. My brother, Peter, likes to call it 'The Weston Family Museum'. Our parlor is even worse than the main hall."

She led them off into a separate room where Prudence and Mr. Weston sat. Rose instantly understood what Charlotte meant when she looked about the room. Every table top had at least one picture frame on it. Some had a whole slew of them, especially the mantelpiece. She spotted a sideboard filled with trophies, ancient-looking artifacts sitting in corners and a frame holding military medals next to a vase of flowers. High on the wall above the fireplace hung a large family portrait. She guessed the group of men and women in it were all the Westons currently living. They stood underneath the shade of trees in front of a lake. They seemed very happy.

"You weren't kidding," Tommy said to her. "Is there anything in here _not_ Weston related?"

"I wish there was. Mum's the family historian."

"Excuse me for wanting to celebrate my children's accomplishments," Prudence huffed, sipping a bit of tea.

"I think it's interesting," Rose said. "You must all live very rich lives if there are so many pictures."

"Thank you, dear," Prudence said. "My children and grandchildren are all very successful. I like sharing that with others."

"I will admit though," Mr. Weston said, "It is a tad excessive." He stood up from his armchair, and walked to Tommy. "Roberts is upstairs in my office. We can continue business details there before dinner." He turned to a young girl who brought in a tray of biscuits, "Dot, where's father?"

Dot was a young woman not much older than Rose. Her mouse brown hair was pinned back from her round face, and she wore a maid's uniform. "He's napping at the moment, sir. Shall I wake him?"

"Oh, no, no, no," Mr. Weston shook his head, "Just make sure he comes down for dinner this time."

"What if he says 'no' sir?"

"I'll handle him if he gets hostile." He looked to Tommy, "Come along now, Tom. I don't like Roberts being in my office too long."

Tommy gave Rose one last glance before he left with Mr. Weston. Rose watched him go. She felt so strange in this lovely parlor with all these pictures. "Tea, Miss?" Dot offered her from the tray.

"Oh yes, thank you."

Rose took one of the cups, added her sugar, and sat down with both Charlotte and Prudence. The floral couches were surprisingly comfortable. Her eyes fell on the portrait again. "Is that everyone then?" she asked.

"Yes, it is," Prudence answered. "I have a family portrait commissioned every few years as the children get older. It makes me happy seeing us all together. We hardly are anymore."

"Mum," Charlotte said, finishing off her drink, "Don't. Rose will think we're all a bunch of estranged relatives." She looked at Rose, "I have one brother in Egypt, and two who both live in London. The children either live at home or go to university now. My sister…well, my sister isn't with us anymore."

The two women fell silent. Rose could feel the tension slowly rising, and then said, "So, you have a brother in Egypt? Is that where all those artifacts come from?" She drank her tea quietly as Prudence grinned.

"Yes," Prudence said. "Peter's an archaeologist, and has been studying ancient civilizations for years. Every so often he sends us little bits of his work once the museums' done with them. Most of it is Egyptian, but some are Greco-Roman; one of them is either Mayan or Inca, I believe. He's very, very accomplished."

"He's written books," Charlotte added. "They're in our library."

"And the others?"

Prudence's mood seemed lifted by the stories of her children, Charlotte adding in bits and pieces. She talked about her son Albert, a soldier turned politician, and Nigel, a retired boxer who ran his father's shipping docks. Prudence sat on 13 charity boards, and Charlotte owned a string of clinics and shelters around London. They said nothing about the fourth Weston child. Rose didn't ask either. She wondered if she'd died recently, which would've explained the silence.

"But, enough about us," Prudence said, "Tell us about your family, love."

Rose obliged. She told them about her mother's days as a nurse, and her father's good years as a farmer. She told them about the day her mother died, which seemed to truly upset Prudence and made Charlotte's green eyes glisten. She never said anything about Him or his drink. She simply noted he'd gone to France and died on the battlefield. Honestly, it was a better story than he deserved.

"…And once I learned he died, I couldn't stay at the farm anymore. So I sold what little we had, and made my way to Birmingham," she said. "I started out working in a pub, and soon later became Mr. Shelby's assistant."

"It seems life hasn't been very easy on you," Charlotte said, "But I admire you for pushing through it all."

"I wasn't really given a choice," Rose said. "I could have either moved on or stayed there and crumbled."

"Well, it is truly inspiring," Prudence told her. "I've met lots of women who found themselves in the same position. Some of them even had children."

"That's horrible," she said. "How unfortunate for them. How do you help them exactly?"

"We give them food and board," Charlotte replied. "We help them with their education, child care-if they need it-and help them find jobs. Most girls become milliners, factory workers or maids, but some have become nurses or gone on to run their own businesses. We encourage the girls to be independent when it comes to what they want in life." She paused, and then said, "You should come by. We always need help in the kitchen."

"That sounds lovely, but my job doesn't leave much room for volunteering," she frowned.

"The kitchen's open 24 hours to those who don't have access to proper meals," she said. "You can stop by any time and just put on an apron."

"My granddaughters Hazel and Jane are usually there," Prudence added. "I'm sure you three would get on nicely."

"And my nephew Alan likes dropping by," Charlotte said. "His fiancée, Edith, is one of our most frequent volunteers."

She sounded awfully insistent. Rose nodded, "Perhaps I'll stop by sometime."

* * *

"Five-percent isn't a bad deal as I said before," Weston said.

The older man sat behind his large desk, brandy glass in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He mainly spoke to Tommy rather than Roberts, who merely stayed beside the desk scribbling in his little notebook. Richard Weston kept his office quiet modestly. The only extravagance in the whole white and wood room was the large painted portrait of himself, his wife, and five children. He recognized a young Charlotte by her dark chin-length hair standing beside her mother and another young girl with a braid. He couldn't place the three boys, but he assumed they were Weston's sons. Tommy imagined himself having something similar one day.

"But the betting licenses? I'm a bit unsure," he said. "How can I be sure you'll bring in the bets?"

"The Peaky Blinders already have a gambling den," Tommy answered. "We have our own chalkers and counters. We reel in dozens of bets every meet, and the number only gets higher. You can come inspect the books yourself, if you like."

He turned to Roberts, "Set a date for that later." He took a drink of his brandy, and then said, "It'll take me some time to convince the board to give me three licenses, since they only allow one at a time. You can only bribe so many people at once," he chuckled.

"A man with enough pull like you should be able to convince them," Tommy said.

"There are at least eight members on the racing board," Roberts said, "And they're not all so…easy."

"He means to say they're not crooks like us," Weston said. "Also, I already have Mr. Kimber on my payroll and he has a pitch of his own. He's not very good with sharing. I'd hate for a gang war to happen on my racetrack."

"I believe he'd change his mind once he saw how beneficial we can be to his own operation," he responded. "The Peaky Blinders will keep to themselves and not interfere with Mr. Kimber or his men. We'll only have two men per bookie, and a few covering the outside crowds. We wouldn't stand in his way."

"All those men for only five-percent?" Weston asked. "Kimber asks for ten," he directed this more at Roberts than Tommy. "It's hard to beat cheaper security."

"Kimber just doesn't respect you, sir," Tommy said.

Weston stared at him for a moment. "Roberts," he said, "Why don't you go draw up a contract between me and Mr. Shelby?"

"Absolutely, sir," he said. He took his notebook and briefcase.

The moment he left the room, Weston sighed deeply. "What do you plan to do once you have those betting pitches, Tommy?"

"Once we're settled and running a decent business," Tommy said, "The Lees and my boys would travel down to the next derby, and take him for everything he's got. With Kimber out of the way, he's operation is ours for the taking."

"I thought you were at war with the Lees," he said.

"I plan to make peace with them. They hate Kimber more than they hate me, so they wouldn't say 'no' to taking him out."

"Taking him out, eh?" he put out the butt of his cigarette, and finished his brandy. He leaned forward in his chair and said, "But I'm sure you've realized now that killing Kimber would be no good if I'm the one who runs everything. The only way you get his license and his racetrack is through me."

"That discovery has thrown a wrench into my plans, yes," Tommy said.

"Me giving you five-percent and going through the trouble of licenses for you and your brothers," he said, "I think I'll need more than just security from your gang."

"Mr. Weston?"

"I can help you with Kimber. I can fire him, give you the racetrack and his pitching licenses, and in return you run my business for me," he said.

The deal tempted him. It'd certainly be a finer route than sneaking around Kimber. Yet, Weston's willingness to help him seemed sudden. This man hardly knew him, but was so eager for his business. Tommy took a drag from his cigarette and said, "Why are you so eager to help me, Mr. Weston? You've never been known for your generosity."

He expected a laugh or an amused grin. Instead, he merely looked between him and the portrait on the wall. "Do you have family, Mr. Shelby? A wife and child of your own?"

"No, sir," he answered.

"You see those children there?" he motioned to the portrait, "Those children there are my pride and joy. They are the reason I built my empire. I wanted a life for them that I never had growing up. My children received the best education, the best luxuries money could buy, and all the love and support my wife and I could give them. They succeeded and accomplished so much in their young lives. Albert was my oldest, and then came Charlotte, then Peter, then Nigel and finally Nancy." He stood and moved to the portrait. He pointed up at the braided child, "Nancy was the sweetest, kindest, most gentle soul of us all. She took care of injured birds, and even cried when our maid killed the mice. She loved springtime, and flowers. So much so she named her daughter after one of her favorites. She was the heart and soul of this family; an angel. When she told us she wanted to be a nurse, we told her we'd support her in anything. We always encouraged our children to follow their dreams wherever they took them.

"Unfortunately, all the love and support in the world couldn't stop our Nancy from getting knocked up by a stableboy." He stayed silent, hands behind his back as he admired the painting. "She told me she was in love and wanted to marry him. What was I to do? She already carried his child. I wouldn't let people call my daughter a whore or my grandchild a bastard. The boy liked her well enough. He whispered sweet things, brought her flowers, took care of her horse and made her laugh. I thought he'd make a decent father, if anything."

"I'm supposing he wasn't?"

He scoffed, "He was the worst. I only found out his true nature after the child was born. Prudence told me she'd spot unexplained bruises on Nancy's arms and face. She said Nancy lived in fear of him, always rushing off home before dinner so she could make him a hot meal and fearful to upset him. She'd never leave the girl alone with him either. She always brought her here. Oh, that child was truthfully loved. I told," he stopped, taking a deep breath, "I told Prudence Nancy died of a sickness. I told her the doctor phoned me from St. Bart's, and told me Nancy was admitted for a fever. I…I didn't have the heart to say what really happened."

"What happened?"

"He beat her to death," Weston said. Tommy watched his whole body stiffen up; his jaw clenched tightly. "The child was only five at the time, so she might not have seen or remembered. I can't imagine he even gave her a proper burial. He said she had broken ribs, bruises all over her body, old scars, fresh cuts, and her skull fractured. They couldn't do anything for her other than give her a sedative. She'd go in peace, he told me. I couldn't help but think, 'what could I have done differently? She'd loved him so much; I couldn't get rid of him. She already hated me for suggesting it and disapproving of their marriage.' I tried, Tommy. I tried helping and supporting, and she died either way."

"There wasn't anything you could do, Richard."

"Yes there was," he said. "I could've taken the child from him. I would've…I should've gone to his home that same night and taken that baby girl. I couldn't. I couldn't do it. I was in shock. I was in pain. I couldn't think of anything other than my little girl dying alone, in pain and afraid. I could have protected the child she loved so dearly. By the time I came the next morning, he'd already gone."

Tommy now knew who that little girl resembled. "Rose suffered at his hands, you know. He beat her the way he did her mother."

Weston gave a shuddered breath. "I could only imagine."

"No, you couldn't."

He didn't answer right away. "She doesn't know about us. She can't know yet."

"Your secret's safe with me," Tommy assured him.

"I will help you with Kimber," he said finally. "I will take him off the racetrack, and you will replace him. However, he won't like being replaced. He'll be out for blood."

"I can handle Kimber," Tommy said. "You just get him out of the way."

"Agreed."

He held out his hand, and the two men shook on it.


	16. Chapter 16

He wanted to tell her. All the way home, he thought about telling her the truth. She deserved the truth. She'd lived all her life believing she was alone in the world; that her mother died from illness. Richard told him that Nancy had been ill, but it wasn't life-threatening. She would have recovered eventually. Eddie Wick ran the moment he realized he'd murdered his wife rather than simply beat her. Richard said that he'd outrun police, private detectives and Richard's men. Tommy gave the man a smidge of credit: He knew how to disappear.

Rose seemed so amazed by the Weston family. They were all doctors, lawyers, politicians, police officers, university professors, military officers, authors, and even an actress. They gave to various charities and even owned a string of shelters for unwed mothers and abused women. They lived rich, successful lives; far more luxurious than anything they'd ever seen. Charlotte showed Rose their conservatory, their art gallery, their stables, the lake, the garden, their library, and their guest house. Anything they wanted, they received. Nobody in the family went without, and they willingly helped one another. Richard credited his success to his family. He wouldn't have accomplished anything without his sons and grandsons. Richard Weston went from a gang leader to owning his own empire.

If he could do it, so could Tommy.

"-And Charlotte's cousin's daughter is a film actress! She's been in all kinds of films and worked with all kinds of people! Oh, and both Charlotte's daughters are in university, and one of her nephews is in the army. Peter only has one son, and he's studying in medical school."

"Sounds wonderful," he said as they approached Garrison Court. Tommy instantly spotted Sam's truck parked outside. She would love this surprise. He hadn't told Polly or Ada about his surprise. He couldn't stand the thought of their smug faces if he'd told them. They'd tease him about his newfound generosity and how he never would've done this for Grace.

"You should've seen their library," she said next. "They have books from all over the world. I saw this really gorgeous ancient scroll they have from China! I mean, I didn't understand a word in it, but Charlotte told me the whole story. It was about a princess and a…Who is that?"

"Probably Sam," Tommy said, "He must be doing some work for Harry."

"Harry never told me," Rose replied. Her excitement faded into curiosity when they stopped at the pub. "What could he be fixing? When something's broken, he usually ignored it until he can't anymore."

"Maybe he couldn't ignore it."

The both of them climbed out of the car, and he followed her to the doors. Anticipation bubbled in his stomach now. He couldn't wait to see the look on her face. "But it's after hours," she explained, "He should be at home."

She opened the doors into the pub, and found the place empty except for Harry. He stood at the bar, wiping down glasses and smiling at each of them. He greeted them with a nod.

"Rosie," he said, "Mr. Shelby. Have a nice evening?"

"Why's there a truck outside, Harry?" Rose asked him.

He didn't need to answer. Down the stairs came Sam and Frank with a few other men Tommy hired. They wore stained overalls, dirty boots and carried buckets, tool boxes and other equipment. Tommy told them to come early in the morning and wait until Rose left. They couldn't touch any personal things; only focus on repairs. Nothing else. He'd leave the decorating to her, Polly and Ada. Sam smiled at Tommy as they entered the bottom half of the pub.

"Mr. Shelby," he said, "We just finished the room. I think you and the Miss will be pleased."

"Room? What room, Tommy?" Rose turned to him.

"It's a surprise."

He took her by the hand and led her up the stairs. He ignored her continuous stream of questions until they reached her door. She unlocked the door and entered her apartment. His satisfaction was fulfilled hearing her soft gasp. Sam and his boys plastered up new floral wallpaper, restored and repainted the decaying wooden panels on the wall, added a new bath tub and stove, as well as replacing the dresser and mirror so it matched the rest of the room. Tommy watched her touch the soft cotton and satin bed covers with their matching pillows and tests the new mattress with her hand. She looked up at him, then to the rest of the room, and then back at him.

"What did you do?" The question didn't sound happy at all.

"I fixed it up for you."

"Why?"

"Because you should live somewhere that's bloody habitable."

"I was fine with how everything was," she said. "I liked it how it was."

"So you liked having a broken stove and a grimy bath tub then?"

"No, but I managed around them."

"Rose," he stepped over to her, holding her in front of him, "You are a clever and resourceful girl, but even clever and resourceful girls need to eat and bathe properly."

"You could've just fixed the tub. You didn't have to fix everything."

"I figured if I fix one thing, I might as well fix the lot, right?"

She stared at him for a moment. She slipped out of his hands, and said, "Why did you do this for me? You never do nice things for anyone, so why would you do them for me?"

"I can be nice every once in a while, can't I?"

"I'm not having sex with you," she said bluntly. "I'm not that kind of girl."

"I know you're not. I wasn't expecting anything," he said. "I did this for you because…" What should he say? _'Because you deserve the best of everything'_? _'Because I want you to be happy and comfortable and safe'_?"Because I just wanted to, alright?" he finally said.

He saw her tensed shoulders slowly relax, and she looked about the room one more time. "The wallpaper is nice though," she said, "I-I like lilies."

"I thought roses would be too obvious," he said.

She laughed softly. "Would you like some tea?" she asked. "Just for an hour or so more?"

An hour more in Rose's company sounded tempting. He gave into this temptation just the once. He nodded and he took a seat at the small dining table he'd acquired for her. Once she'd put the tea on, she sat in front of him and they talked. He asked her about the books on her new bookshelf, even though he already knew all about them and had read a few before. Watching her passion pour through her words, and how excited when she talked of her favorite ones made him smile. Tommy couldn't recall the last time he'd smiled this much with one person. Over tea, she asked him about horse racing and his family and seemed genuinely curious. Grace never asked such questions.

' _I like to live in the present, Tommy. The past is the past,'_ she'd say when he asked her about her home life.

The hour turned into two, and then two turned into four. Tommy would've stayed the entire night if he didn't have a busy day ahead of him. Rose walked him to the door and they stayed at the threshold. He looked down at her. The bright light of the corridor shined right on her; she practically glowed. He couldn't stop staring even if he resisted. Tommy nearly forgot tomorrow's business the entire time he'd been with Rose. Nothing else really mattered when she smiled at him. The small curl of her lips, the sweetness in her eyes, and the blush on her cheeks made his heart race. He decided in that moment that green was now his favorite color.

"Goodnight, Tommy," she said. Her voice was now his favorite tune.

"Night," he replied.

Tommy didn't stop her when she leaned up and kissed him. It'd been a chaste and quick kiss, though he wished for more. When she closed the door and he began walking away, Grace no longer crossed his mind. He could only think of Rose and her pretty smile.

* * *

" **Weston Shelter for Women"**

The gold placard outside the building told Rose she'd found the right place. A few days had passed since Cheltenham, and Harry took the morning off for some personal business. This gave Rose a bit of time to herself. Since Ada ran off with Freddie and it was too early to call on Polly, she decided she'd visit the Westons in their shelter. Perhaps she'd help out in their public soup kitchen. Stepping inside, she found a receptionist desk in the front lobby of the building. She would've asked for Charlotte if a voice behind her hadn't caught her first.

"Rose! Oh good, you finally came!"

Charlotte came from a side corridor, wearing a sleek navy pantsuit and a floral scarf hanging underneath the lapel of her jacket. She looked radiant as always. No wonder Kimber had been drooling over her. She hugged Rose once she reached her.

"I was worried you'd forgotten us," she said.

"Oh no, I wouldn't have," Rose said. She truly had not forgotten the Westons or the magnificent lifestyle. Their home felt so familiar to her, but she couldn't place how or why. She felt comfortable there. "I had some time off, and I thought I might come and do something productive with my time."

"Then you came to the right place," She linked her arm with Rose's and walked her to a set of double doors. "You came on a good day too. We're short on serving staff, but my children are here. They'd love to meet you."

"They already know about me?"

"Of course," she said. "Mum hasn't stopped talking about you since the races."

The fact that Prudence showed such interest made her smile. The woman seemed over the moon about Rose's visit. They reached the kitchen where she saw women stirring up eggs or oatmeal, frying slices of bacon, baking biscuits, and generally preparing other breakfast foods. Men brought in crates off a truck and stuck them in a large walk-in freezer. Charlotte took her coat and hung it on a hook, then handed her an apron.

"Albert's on the truck," she said, tying her own apron, "But Hazel and Jane are up front. Come."

Coming out into the front where young women were setting down large trays of food, she saw two twin girls. Both had light brown hair pinned away from their faces. One twin wore a green cardigan, while the other wore the same cardigan only maroon; their skirts were similar lengths only they each matched their cardigans. Even their heels were the same type and height. They completed their tasks in near unison.

"Girls," Charlotte called them, "This is Rose."

They turned around from the set up. They both gave her the same pleased smiles the other Westons had given her. Rose spotted the sole difference in them. One of them had a beauty mark near her lips.

The twin in red approached first, her hand out. "Hi," she said, shaking Rose's hand, "I'm Hazel."

"And I'm Jane," said the other. "It's so good to finally meet you." She hugged her as her mother had done.

"Good to meet you too," Rose said when she released her.

"Rose is going to be serving in the front," Charlotte told them, "So, you two find a spot for her and I'll get helping in the kitchen."

Awkwardness came back, but Rose tried hiding it from the twins. "Great," Hazel said, "It can be just us girls then." She led Rose to a pot of scrambled eggs, steaming and hot to the touch. "You man the eggs. I got the biscuits and Janey's in charge of bacon."

"If I don't eat it all first," Jane smirked, taking a strip and biting into it.

"Janey!"

"What? It's just one piece."

"Okay, we're switching."

The twins switched sides with Rose in the middle. "Anyways," Hazel said, "Mum and Nana haven't stopped talking about you since the races-"

"-Mum says you work for some really handsome gentleman," Jane said. "Is that true?"

"Oh yes." She'd almost forgotten Tommy had told the Westons she worked for him. "Yes, I work for Mr. Shelby. I'm his assistant."

"Assistant, huh?" Jane smirked. "And what is it you assist him with?"

"Janey…"

"I-I take down notes for appointments, and take care of the books, and run errands that he can't do for the day," she honestly tried thinking of things a personal assistant does, and she was coming up empty quickly.

"Oh really?" Jane giggled. "Is that the only thing he asks of you?" she winked.

"Janey!" Hazel hushed.

"I'm only asking," Jane said.

"Well, it's what you're implying," Hazel retorted. "I'm sorry about her," she said to Rose, "Our mum's rubbed off on her a bit more than we'd like."

"Sorry that I don't want to have my nose in a book the rest of my life," Jane said. "Mum said he's incredibly handsome, your boss. Is that true?"

The image of Tommy brought a smile on her face suddenly. "He is," she said.

Hazel grinned and Jane laughed. "Aw, she's blushing," Jane said, "That's so cute."

"What's he like?" Hazel asked.

"He's clever," she said, "Stubborn, brave, and strong. Yet, he's also surprisingly kind in small doses. He cares about animals, especially horses. Not to mention, he has quite a head for business. He owns all sorts of businesses around town. He's a leader; people follow him and listen to him. It's why no one ever bothers me. They know better than to…" _Mess with Tommy Shelby's girl,_ she'd almost said. "He's a good man though few people ever see that side of him."

"And it sounds like you're one of those people," Jane said.

"I am."

"It reminds me of my Martin," Hazel beamed.

"Oh not this again!" Jane groaned.

"Martin?"

"This bloke she's been seeing every so often," Jane explained.

"He's in my biology lecture," Hazel said excitedly. "He's tall, handsome, smart, funny, and…Oh, he's just so suave and charming. He sweeps me off my feet almost every time."

She went on for a bit about Martin despite her sister's attempts to change conversation. Jane talked about boys she'd dated as they began serving people that came in. The line consisted mostly of young women with pregnant bellies or women holding infants and toddlers or street urchins looking for a hot meal. Hazel told her the kitchen was open to the public, which meant a lot of people came through for food. She said the family funded everything, but they also received donations from other wealthy families.

"Hello, hello, hello ladies. I got some more apples for you." A stocky, dark-haired youth came from the kitchen, carrying a crate of fresh apples that he set down next to the nearly empty one. His eyes landed on Rose when he reached them.

"Albert," Hazel smiled, "This is Rose. Rose, this is our brother, Albert."

"Rose?" Albert stood up straight, wiping his hands with a rag he kept on his belt. He gave her the same stunned expression before he shook his head and smiled. "Pleasure to meet you, Rose."

"And you, Albert."

"Al's a champion horse jockey," Jane said, passing a pregnant girl two biscuits rather than one. "Aren't you, Al?"

"I wouldn't say 'champion'," he flushed. "I've only been in a handful of races. Mum doesn't really approve of it, since it gets in the way of university."

"You were at Cheltenham, weren't you?" Rose asked. She piled some eggs on one girl's plate and said, "I remember your grandfather saying so."

"Yeah, I was," he said. "I only got second though."

"Little Lady isn't used to you," Jane said. "That's why. I told you that you should ride her more often instead of Mighty Al."

"But he's named after me," Albert grinned, backing into the kitchen, "Why wouldn't I ride him?"

They all laughed as Albert returned to the kitchen. They were all so close. With the Shelby family, it'd felt awkward at first. She'd been an outsider looking inward on something she'd never own. With the Westons, she felt a part of them. Hazel and Jane asked their questions, but mostly they talked. They laughed at Jane's risqué jokes, and Hazel told her all about her classes. She told them about her mother and what she remembered. One might've thought they were all best friends.

It felt like home.


	17. Chapter 17

She stood with Jane at the large sink, both of them busy washing off dishes after breakfast finished. The cooks already began cleaning and setting up for lunch in the background. Albert and other men finished stocking the walk-in and the freezer, and now made their leave. He cheerfully said goodbye as he walked out, giving special attention to Rose. She supposed he might be interested, but she hoped not. There were already so many that showed the same interest. Charlotte thanked her for all her work as she walked by with a clipboard. Her morning turned out more productive than she could've imagined, but time zoomed by her in the company of the twins.

"Hey Rose," Jane caught her attention. When Rose looked, Jane splashed a bit of water her way, laughing. Rose met her mischievous gaze and did the same back. Suddenly a water war emerged at the edge of the sink, nothing but laughter in the air. Hazel held one of the empty food trays under her arm, setting it down with the rest of the dirty trays.

"Rose, there's a man at the front asking for you."

"Really?" The mention of a man shot nerves up her spine. No. It wasn't possible. How could he know she was here? He never came to soup kitchens. He thought they were for freeloaders and whores who didn't know any honest work. Her knees weakened slightly at the thought of him, tall and bald with the meanest mug on his face. "Di-Did he give a name?"

"Yeah, um, John? Peaked cap? Toothpick in his mouth? He's also quite the looker if you ask me," she winked.

Rose's worries vanished. "Oh okay. I'll be back, Jane."

Her father hadn't crossed her mind in ages. She'd been so caught up with Tommy, the pub, and the routine of her life that she hardly thought of him. Yet, every so often, when she'd be walking down the street from the market or the chemist, she'd imagine running into him. She'd picture a large drunken man staggering about, roaring and raving like a madman. The image scared her. She didn't know what she would do if she saw him again. Probably run away. She could never face him. He was so big and she was small. He would easily overpower her like he'd done so many times before.

Coming out into the front, she saw John standing near the doors, biting off the end of a toothpick and playing with it in his mouth. He shifted his weight around and wouldn't stay still. She could tell by his swinging arms that something unnerved him. John normally didn't seem so anxious. She approached him, wiping her hands with her apron.

"John," she called him.

He looked away from the window, and a smirk came on his face. "Good lord, you never look terrible do you?"

"Unlike some, I do try to look my best," she said. She touched his cheek, feeling a coarseness on her fingertips, "When was the last time you shaved?"

"I skipped it this morning, _Mum,_ " he teased. "I got a lot on my mind, and I needed to see you."

"About what? Is everything alright? Is one of the boys sick again?"

"No, no, it's none of that. Everything's okay…for now anyway," he replied. "I need a favor from you. A big one."

"What is it?"

"Alright," he exhaled deeply, "I've called a family meeting at The Garrison this afternoon. I got some news, but I know Tommy isn't going to approve of it once he hears it. It'll take some convincing, so I need someone who can win him over; someone who can back me up when he starts giving me that look."

Rose knew what look John meant. Tommy had a habit of giving a skeptical, cold disapproving look whenever he heard something he didn't like. This look never came towards Rose, but she'd seen him direct it at others.

"I'm not family, John. I wouldn't be-"

"-Tommy wouldn't care if you were there," John cut in. "He likes you too much to refuse you anything. Polly wouldn't mind either 'cause she fucking loves you too. Now, like I was saying, when I give my big news I'll need you to back me up. If you just do that thing you do, he'll at least consider it."

"What thing? I don't do a thing."

John laughed, "Oh yes you do. He fucking melts every time you do it, even though he pretends he doesn't."

"What are you-"

"-That thing you do where you bat those pretty eyes and talk about whatever's bothering you. You have this sweet tone that just gets to him. It works on Arthur too. I'm not saying it's bad. It's gonna be bloody useful today."

"I do not do that," she defended. "They ask me 'what's wrong?' and I just answer."

"Yeah, cause you do this little wounded kitten look. I mean, I don't blame them for falling for it. I'd fall for it too if you did it to me."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I don't do that," she said, crossing her arms. "What is this big news that Tommy isn't going to approve of anyways?"

"I'm getting married," he grinned excitedly.

A smile spread on her face and she hugged him. "John, that's great! Congratulations! Who is she?"

"Lizzie Stark," he said. "I've been seeing her for a while now, and I proposed last night."

"That's wonderful, John. I'm so happy for you," she released him. "Why wouldn't Tommy be happy with it? He should be happy his brother is getting married." Then again, Tommy didn't get happy about many things.

"Well," his nerves took over again, toying with his hat in his hands, "Lizzie doesn't have the best reputation. Tommy might not approve of me marrying somebody like her."

"Somebody like her?"

He hesitated, "I'll explain at the meeting." She let him off with that much, and he then said, "So, will you help?"

"John, of course I'll help," she said.

"Thanks a million, Rose," he said, "You're a gem. So, I'll tell them the news and then you do your kitten look and we'll be good."

"I am not doing any sort of 'Look'," she said.

"Do the look," he said, "And he'll melt. I promise. This is gonna work, Rose. I can feel it now." He kissed her cheek lightly, and began walking away.

"I don't have a look," she called after him, but he only laughed.

"And who is that hunk of a man? A secret brother we don't know about?" Hazel and Jane appeared behind her.

Rose giggled, "John Shelby. He's my boss's brother."

"Oooh," they said in unison.

"You must be in tight with these Shelbys if they're so casual with you," Hazel said.

"Are there more like him?" Jane asked. "Wanna introduce me?"

They both linked each of her arms, badgering her with more questions about the Shelby brothers. She pondered on John's situation as she grabbed her coat from the hook. Why would Tommy disapprove of his brother's happiness? Why did John even have to run it by him? She knew Tommy headed the family, but she never thought it extended into his brothers' personal lives. Then she remembered what he did to Ada. She knew he'd sent people looking for Ada and Freddie, though they dodged their tails constantly. Rose didn't think it fair. Then again, life was never fair.

* * *

She came back to The Garrison later on that afternoon. Harry stood behind the bar catering to his customer's orders. She instantly tied an apron around her waist and went to work. Rose didn't know when John and the others would show, so she decided she'd work until then. Harry came close to her as she poured a beer from the tap.

"That inspector was in here looking for you again," he said. "I told him you were out for the morning and didn't know when you'd be back."

Rose groaned, "I don't know why he keeps coming around. I can't give him what he wants if I don't have it."

"Oh, I think you do have what he wants, Rosie," he said. "I just think he's too stuck up to admit he wants…" he seemed reluctant to finish.

"Wants what?"

"A girl like you."

"A girl like me?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "He's this big-shot, stuck-up, higher-class man. He thinks working women-you know, whores and laborers- are beneath him and his taste." He gave a quick laugh, shaking his head, "Men like him act as if their shit doesn't stink. Yet, even they can't resist a pretty girl, no matter her class. Plus, I think he's married; spotted a wedding band on his finger."

"Well, I'm not a whore," she said, "And I have no interest in married men."

It certainly explained why the Inspector came around so often asking questions he knew the answers to already. Tommy told her Campbell wouldn't bother her ever again. Yet, it seemed Campbell didn't take to Tommy's terms completely. He'd stopped lifting runners and interfering in business, but leaving Rose out of his inquiries went ignored. He apparently had a wife of his own. Why didn't he go bother her?

"I bet he came when Tommy wasn't here," she said, handing the beer to the customer and taking his money. "He wouldn't dare come if Tommy were around."

"Came right when I opened," he said. "He was pretty disappointed when I told him you weren't here. I told him you'd be out all day."

"Thank you, Harry," she patted his shoulder and took another order.

John entered the bar a little later with Arthur. He caught Rose's attention, calling for a bucket of beer for the private room. She knew she'd have to take her break now and help John as she promised. Rose had no idea how she'd convince the entire family of John's proposal.

' _I don't have a LOOK,'_ she thought, pouring out a bucket and taking it to the private room.

"Hey there, Rosie," Arthur said once she came in.

"Hey Rose," John greeted. She saw him fidgeting his hands, twisting his cap like before.

"Arthur, John," she nodded, placing the bucket on the table with four mugs. She looked down at John, "Are you sure this is okay? My being here?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "I talked to Poll. She said it was alright."

"Wait, Rose is gonna be here for this?" Arthur asked. "Sorry love, but it's a family-"

"-I wanted Rose here for it," John interrupted. "Polly said she was more than fine with it, okay?"

"Alright then," Arthur shrugged, taking his mug and gulping some of it down. "I certainly don't mind her here," he said, his eyes looking Rose up and down. She guessed if he couldn't have her, he might as well enjoy the view. She took a seat by him. She caught him staring at her, "Arthur…Something wrong?"

"Yeah, there is," he said, "The fact that you've been running about the pub all afternoon and you still look beautiful."

"Am I not supposed to?" she asked.

"Well, some women look like hell when they work as hard as you," he said.

"Ha, you should've seen her this morning at that women's shelter," John said.

"Women's shelter?" Arthur raised a brow. He looked over at Rose, "What were you doing there?"

"Working in the kitchen," she said. "I had some free time on my hands because Harry wasn't opening in the morning, so I went down there. Charlotte invited me."

"Who's Charlotte?" John asked.

"Charlotte Weston," Arthur answered for her. "Richard the Reaper's daughter, remember?"

"You know Charlotte, Arthur?" Rose asked him.

"Not personally, but everyone who was around during those times knows Richard's oldest kids," Arthur replied, taking another swig of his beer. "I was young when Richard used to come around our gambling den, but I remember him when he was Richard the Reaper and not Richard the Emperor. He's one of the wealthiest men in England now."

"He certainly is," she said, "But their family's very giving. Charlotte and her daughters run a soup kitchen out of the shelter, and I thought I'd go help them." In truth, she only went because she wanted to be closer to them. They made her feel so welcome.

"Help who?" In walked Polly with Tommy right behind her. She set down her hat and fixed her hairpin back in her hair.

Rose and Tommy met eyes, and she felt a sudden rush go through her. She remembered their night together after the races. The man she sat across from that night seemed so different from the man who came into the room. He only nodded at her. She knew he didn't make a big show of his affection in public. He wasn't the type.

"The Westons with their soup kitchen," she said.

"The Westons?" she said in surprise, "As in Richard Weston?"

"Well, more like his daughter, but yes I met him."

"I ran into him Cheltenham," Tommy said, taking out his cigarettes and matches from his pocket and setting on the sill of the bar window. "As it turns out," he continued, "Kimber doesn't own Cheltenham. He only runs the side-betting there and at Weston's other racetracks."

"You made a deal with him?" Polly asked. Rose heard the caution in her voice, "You know once you make a deal with Richard Weston, you cannot turn your back on him. Bad things happen to people that do."

"I know, Poll," Tommy said. "We're not here to talk about me. What's the trouble, John? There's only one man guarding the house."

"Poll," John began, "You know what it's been like since Martha passed."

"God takes the best of us first," she comforted.

"My kids," he said, "Have been running bloody rings around me. They run barefoot with the dogs day and night. They've been getting sick and hurt from all the roughhousing. I've only been so lucky that Rose helps with that."

"You know I'm always glad to help," she said.

"Polly, give him 10 bob for some shoes," Tommy dismissed, "Is that what this is about?"

"Tommy we'd be better to do this without you," Polly said. "What's your point, John?"

"What my kids need is a mother…" his eyes shifted to Rose. Some of the room caught onto it, but she stayed silent, "So, that's why I'm getting married."

Polly then said, eyes shifting between he and Rose, "Don't tell me this is going where I think it's going, Rose."

"Oh no," Rose shook her head, "It's not me."

John scoffed in a laugh, "It's not Rose. I would've asked her if she weren't already spoken for though."

"I'd watch it if I were you, John Boy," Arthur smirked, "The man you're talking about is right behind you."

Tommy shot him a glare, but said nothing. Rose only smiled at him, which he returned with a smaller one he tried hiding from Polly.

"Then who is this girl?" Polly asked.

"It's, um, Lizzie Stark," John finally said.

Suddenly the room filled with stifled laughter. Even Tommy was amused by the news, taking a cigarette out of his package and lighting it. Rose looked about confused. "I don't-wha-what's so funny?" she asked them.

"Lizzie Stark is a strong woman, John, and I'm sure she provides a fine service for her customers-"

"-I won't hear the word! Don't say that word!" John said.

"What word?" Rose asked again.

"Love, Lizzie is a prostitute," Arthur informed her.

Rose instantly understood why Tommy would disapprove. He wouldn't like his brother marrying a girl with such a reputation. "Bu-But, why should that mean John shouldn't marry her?" They all looked at her bemused. "Just because she is what she is, shouldn't mean that she can't be married. It doesn't mean she's incapable of love or being loved. John loves her and if she agreed to marriage, I'm assuming she loves him back. Right, John?"

"She does," he nodded. "She said so."

"It's a bit more complicated than that, love," Arthur said.

"Lizzie and I want to get married. I love her and she loves me back," John defended.

"Men and their cocks never cease to amaze me!" Polly said. "John, Lizzie Stark's never done a day's work vertical."

"She's changed!" John insisted. "Alright? People change!" He slammed his hand on the table and stood up. "You know, like with religion or whatever."

"So, Lizzie Stark's found religion, eh?" Tommy said.

"No, she ain't found religion," John snapped. "But-But…she loves me!"

"And that's what matters at the end of it," Rose intervened. "If Lizzie has changed her ways and wants to commit herself to you and only you, then why does anything else matter?"

"Oh Rose," Polly said, "You have such a good heart. It's going to get you into trouble one day."

Before she could ask, John said to Tommy, "Now, Tommy…I won't do it without your blessing. Out of all the people in the world, I-I-I want you to see it as-as brave."

Arthur laughed, "Oh it's bloody brave alright."

"John, being brave is going where no man's gone before," Polly said, "And with Lizzie Stark that is not something that you'll be doing."

"That's not fair, Polly," Rose said. "It shouldn't matter how many men Lizzie's been with before John."

"It does if it's half the town," Arthur said.

"Still," Rose said. "Maybe Lizzie had her reasons for doing what she did. Sometimes we women have to…have to endure things in order to survive. We do what we have to to-to survive." She could feel a migraine coming on, but she held it back for the time. She noticed the room grow quiet for a moment. She broke it by saying, "It's not pleasant or pretty or decent. It's hard. It's difficult and it hurts, but we push on through because it's the only thing we can do." She looked at Tommy specifically, "Maybe John is Lizzie's way out of her pain. Maybe sh-she sees him as hope for something better, and who are you to take that from her or John?"

John nodded, "See? Like what Rose said. Lizzie's had it rough and she ain't proud of what she did, but she's different now. She promised me she was."

"So she says," Tommy said slowly.

"Tommy, I-I want you to welcome her into the family," John said, "As somebody who's had a hard life. Like Rose. Rose has had it bad-"

"-Don't compare your Lizzie to Rose," Tommy said, hardness in his eyes. "Rose has been through worse things than Lizzie. All Lizzie's ever done is laid on her back for a few pounds."

John didn't like his brother's description, but carried on, "Well, I need someone, okay? The kids need someone."

"John," Tommy said, "I don't think this is the best idea. How do you know she's really changed, eh? Because she says so? How many times have women like her say they've changed when they haven't? She's just going to use you, John."

"No, she won't. She loves me," John said, "I know she does. She-She means something to me, okay? She's a strong, beautiful woman that loves me for who I am. I know she does."

"No, John," Tommy said, shaking his head. "I won't give you my blessing on this. There are better women out there for you than Lizzie," he said.

"He loves her," Rose said. "Why shouldn't he marry her? Just because you don't approve?"

"You don't understand, Rosie-"

"-Oh, I understand," she retorted. "I understand that nobody in this family can do what they want without your permission." She stood up and faced him, "First you tell Ada she can't marry Freddie and force her into hiding, and now you're telling your own brother that he can't be with someone he cares about because _you_ don't like the idea."

"Rose, calm down," Polly said.

"It's okay, love," Arthur said, gently touching her hand.

"Rose, sit down. You don't get a say-"

"-Frankly Tommy, I don't care," she said. "You might boss around your family and just about everyone who dares to live here, but you don't boss me around. I can stand and say whatever I feel like, and I won't let you-or any man-take that away from me."

"Rose," he said more firmly, "If you don't like it, the door is right there. You don't have to be here. This isn't even your family to begin with."

"Tommy!" Polly scowled, "Don't say that! It's not true!"

"That's not right, Tommy," Arthur said.

His words suddenly shattered her heart. Rose held back the tears welling in her eyes. She walked right to him and slapped him hard. A mixture of heartbreak and anger built up in her chest. She could feel her hands become cold and clammy, fighting off the shakiness running in them. She'd never slapped someone before, but now she saw the appeal. She exchanged his stunned expression with the pain she felt now. She felt like hitting him again seeing him hold his cheek. She could see the humiliation she brought him, but she believed it was due. The tension in the room came about tenfold, and none of the Shelbys knew how to react. Their fearless leader had never been challenged or defied in such a way before, especially by his "woman".

"So, you're a big girl now, eh?" he asked.

"I am," she answered, "And you're a scared little boy."

"Well, Big Girl, don't come crying to me when this whole thing blows up in your face," he said, "Which it will."

"Because you're going to make sure it does, right? Because everything has to be how you say it is, right?" she asked in a mocking laugh. "Even the universe has to bend to your will."

"Alright, break it up," Polly came in between them. "This isn't about you two. This is about John. I'm not going to let this family meeting turn into a bloody lover's quarr-"

"-Tommy!" Finn suddenly opened the door to the private room panting. "Quick! We've been done over!"

"What?" Tommy immediately forgot about her and rushed out the door with the rest of the family.

Rose stood in the private room alone. His words ran through her head as she picked up the bucket and the mugs. Harry asked her what was wrong, and she didn't answer. She couldn't say it out loud. She felt guilty for not helping John. He'd expected a sweet, pretty charmer that would convince Tommy it was a good idea. Instead, she only fueled the fire. She spent the rest of the day hearing about how The Lee family turned over the gambling den, and how little Finn was almost blown up in Tommy's car. She heard about how Tommy grabbed the grenade just in time and threw it across the road where it exploded against a wall. Psh, typical. One minute he's cross and the next he's a damned hero.

What hurt the most was he didn't return to The Garrison. As she closed up, she foolishly thought of him coming into the empty bar and apologizing for what he said. Instead, she had nothing but the silence to keep her company.

.


	18. Chapter 18

Fire. Defiance. Anger. In those beautiful green eyes, Tommy saw a side of Rose he never encountered. He certainly hadn't expected her slap to sting so badly. Sitting in the gambling den, business finished for the day, he imagined her pain fueled her anger. Perhaps on some level she sympathized with women like Lizzie. She understood that need for survival. She'd endured a lifetime of pain, and came out the other side alive. Tommy imagined her mending her own wounds, constantly fighting off migraines, and being beaten and locked up. She'd once been somebody's property; a thing that was theirs to torture. Rose ran away to escape her father; she wouldn't become another person's possession. Yet, despite all of that she still put her faith in love. She backed John a hundred percent because she believed in love.

She hadn't been afraid of him either. His cold stare hadn't backed her away; his cruel words pierced her, but she stood strong. She'd even mocked him. Most people in Small Heath kept their distance from him, careful not to anger him. Yet, she couldn't care less. He didn't scare her. He carried a suspicion that Rose wasn't terrified of anyone except her father.

Then again, she had Weston blood running through her veins.

"…Tommy? Tommy?" Polly's voice brought him back to reality. She stood before him, coat over her arm and hat on his table.

"What?"

"Didn't you hear what I said?"

"No. What did you say?"

"This war with the Lee family has to end before someone gets killed," she said.

"That's the thing about war, Polly," Tommy said. He poured a whiskey and drank it, "People get hurt whether you like it or not."

"And what if that someone had been Finn, hm? Would've you stopped it then?" she asked, glaring down at him. "He's only a child. He shouldn't be involved in your mess."

"What do you suggest I do?" Tommy already had plans for the Lee family, but he kept that from his aunt.

"Call a truce and make a deal," she said. "The only way to end this is to bargain."

"And what do we bargain with exactly?"

"Whatever it is they want," she told him. "There hasn't been any blood spilled, so we can still parlay with them. We need to do that before somebody dies."

"Then things would get ugly," he added.

"Yes they would," she nodded. She hesitated, and then said, "What you said to Rose yesterday wasn't right. That poor girl has been nothing but good to you."

"And me? I've been good to her, and look how she repaid me."

"So that gives you the right to talk to her as you please?" she responded, "The girls spits a little fire at you, and you suddenly cast her aside then?"

"I'm not casting anyone anywhere," He paused, and then said, "I went to The Garrison this morning and she wasn't there. Harry told me she asked for mornings off now. Do you want to know why, Polly?"

"Why?"

"So she can volunteer at a bloody soup kitchen," he said. "As if her sweet, angelic image didn't sicken people enough."

"Her goodness never sickened you," Polly told him. "Her goodness attracted you. For the first time in your life, you've met a woman who cares for you without having a motive for it. People like Rose are gems .If you don't go talk to her, then you'll lose her."

The last thing he needed was Polly riding him about making up with Rose. Tommy already had his plans for that part of his day. "Richard Weston is coming later this afternoon to see our operations," he said. "We can't let them know the Lees hit us. They won't do business with us if they think we can't handle our own."

She picked up her hat from the table and said, "Fix this mess with the Lees and we won't have to worry about that."

"I'll set up a meeting with Johnny," he said, watching her leave the shop. "If anyone can get me a meeting, it'll be him."

He checked his pocket watch. The book shopkeeper would be closing for lunch soon. He threw on his jacket and made his way outside.

LINE

"You know, Rosie, maybe it's a good thing that you and Tommy aren't a thing anymore," Harry said as he wiped down the bar top. "Now, you can find somebody who's fit for you."

Rose poured a few glasses of gin, sliding them over to the man across from her, "What do you mean?"

"Well, like a proper boy," Harry said. Rose put the money in the till and Harry came up beside her for a bottle of whiskey. "A boy who's got a proper job and makes an honest living. You'd certainly be safer than if you stayed with someone like Tommy Shelby."

"I'm not really interested in dating, Harry," she said. "I never was, honestly. Tommy sort of just happened."

The anger she'd felt towards Tommy had quickly dissolved into sadness and longing during the night. She thought about going to the gambling den and seeing if he was there, but she couldn't find the courage for it. In the stories, the man always came after the woman, right? If Tommy cared for her, surely he'd try making amends? Not let everything they shared be for nothing? Rose couldn't stand her flat now. She hadn't completely hated what he did. He did it because he loved her and cared for her comfort. She only wished he'd said so instead of becoming stubborn and stupid. Slapping him in front of his family certainly wasn't a way of repaying him.

"Morning," she felt somebody take the stool in front of her.

Rose saw a woman. Her fine pink coat and matching hat made her stand out in the dingy pub. She had blonde curls that curtained her face, and amusement in her eyes. She spoke in an Irish accent, much like Inspector Campbell did. She stared Rose up and down as she removed her gloves. Rose noticed a lot of the men stared at her in surprise, Harry being one of them.

"Morning, miss," Rose said, "What can I get you?"

"Just a gin and tonic would be fine," she answered.

Rose nodded, immediately looking for the tonic water Harry kept somewhere amongst the bottles. Once she found it, she mixed the drink for her. "Sorry, miss. We normally don't get orders for gin and tonics," she said, sliding the drink across the bar.

"It's okay, Rose. I expected as much," she said, taking a drink from it.

"I'm sorry, I don't think we've met, Miss," Rose said. "How do I…?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't introduce myself," she stuck out a hand, "I'm Grace."

The name rang a bell in her head. This must've been the woman Polly and Ada mentioned. She certainly was beautiful; there was no doubt about that. The tales of her wealth certainly weren't exaggerated either. Rose caught glimpses of real pearls around her neck, and the jewel in her hat glimmered.

"I'm Rose," she shook Grace's hand.

"I know," she said. Grace took another gulp of her drink before saying, "I heard you're the new girl here."

"Oh, yes I am," she nodded. "I came here not too long ago."

"From where?"

"The countryside," she said.

"How cute," she grinned, "A little farm girl moving into the big city."

"Something like that I guess," Rose replied. "What about yourself? What brings you here?"

"My husband," she huffed. "He's the Chief Inspector. I think you might have met him?"

"Inspector Campbell is your husband?"

"He is," she said. "I know it's an odd pairing, but I didn't have much of a choice either way. I honestly didn't think much of marriage at first, but my uncle insisted I do it. He said it'd better my 'soiled reputation'."

"You couldn't have been that bad," Rose said, starting to wash the mugs.

"When you come from a family like mine, everything you do reflects your family," she replied, finishing her whiskey. "My father complained about how terrible I was and my uncle suggested I go to Ireland. They thought an Irish man might make an honest woman of me. They sent me back to Belfast after the war. Who knew it'd be somebody so much older than me? He's practically my father's age."

"But surely you're happy? I can't imagine being unhappy with a man like him."

Grace didn't answer at first. Instead she watched her, but eventually said, "You know Chester well then?"

"He does come around here a lot," Rose said. "A lot of the time I'm not here, but the times I've spoken with him, he seemed pleasant and courteous."

Grace stared at her a moment. Rose knew she'd caught on; what wife wouldn't? "Chester's committed to his job. He's very dedicated," she said.

"He is," Rose said. "I've never had reason to think he wasn't. He's only doing his job."

Grace finished her drink and ordered another. The two of them began talking about other things over drinks. Grace reminisced about her and the Shelbys. She consistently mentioned the closeness she and Tommy shared. Rose couldn't stop herself from imagining them together, laughing and getting into trouble. She couldn't imagine Tommy having someone so close to him. He kept himself on guard at all times. The other night after the races was the first time she'd seen any softness in him. Tommy had clearly trusted Grace enough to involve her in his business. She'd worked in the shop and planned robberies with him. She heard many things about Grace, and she didn't see what the fuss was about. Grace didn't seem much different from anyone else she'd met in Small Heath.

"And I've heard around town that you're Tommy's girl now?"

Rose shrugged, "Something like that. I'm not sure what we are right now."

"Trouble in paradise then?"

She shook her head, "No. It's just unclear at the moment. Tommy's been busy with things and I've been busy, so we don't get much time to talk often."

"He's an ambitious man," Grace said. "He likes to think he can move up in the world. Word of advice: Stay away from him."

Rose stopped drying the mugs she'd washed. "You know something," she said, setting down one of the mugs, "You're the third person that's told me to stay away from him. I don't see why. He's perfectly fine around me. He doesn't seem all that dangerous actually."

"Then clearly you're not as bright as my husband thinks you are."

Rose heard the implication in her tone. She must not like hearing that Tommy isn't pining after her every second of the day. "I'm only saying that he's been nothing but lovely to me since I got here. He's taken me on picnics, let me ride with him on his horse," she caught a glance of Grace's smug look change, "He even was nice enough to invite me with him to Cheltenham races. Harry says it's because I'm pretty, but I think he might like me."

Grace glared at her, "Trust me. He doesn't. You're not his type."

"Maybe his type's changed since the war. You never know."

She finished her second drink, and then said "So, you're close with Ada then?" She was changing the subject. Old Rose would've admired the New Rose.

"I like to think so," Rose answered, pouring a glass of gin for somebody else. "She was the one who helped me with my dress for Cheltenham, and she and I spent a lot of time around each other."

"Really? I heard she ran off with Freddie Thorne though." When Rose gave her a questioning look, she continued, "My husband sometimes lets things slip at dinner. He mentioned he lost track of Freddie after he knocked up Ada. He came asking you about it."

"I know they ran off together," Rose nodded. How dumb did this woman think she was? "I don't know where they went though. Ada wouldn't tell me."

"Then you must've not been as close as you thought," she said. "It must be sad."

"What is?"

"That they'll never let you in," she answered. "Women like us might end up getting close to them, but they never let anyone into their little family circle. You'll always be a little outsider to them. It's sad, is all. You seem like a sweet girl." She slid off her stool and said, "But then again, Tommy's never liked good girls."

With that she walked out of the pub. Rose didn't envy or hate her. She pitied her.


	19. Chapter 19

When Rose arrived at the shop, she saw men everywhere. A group of about three took bets and wrote down names and numbers in books. Other men came in and out, placing their bets while children dropped off money with pieces of paper. Rose stared about the room. She was a foreigner in a new land, and had no idea where to begin. She'd only seen the gambling den without its occupants. The place buzzed with life during its operating hours. Her eyes caught Polly discussing numbers with one of the men, while John wrote down the odds on a chalk board. Nerves boiled in her stomach now. What if they didn't want her here? She can't imagine they were okay with her hitting Tommy, even if only a slap.

"Rosie!" Arthur's voice called out over the noise. He came over to her from an office, beaming at her, "I never thought I'd see you here."

"I came for Tommy," she said. "Is he here?"

Arthur looked around the room and then shook his head, "Nah, but he will be. Come with me. You can wait in the office for him."

Arthur guided her through the small shop over to an adjacent office. She took a seat in front of the desk while Arthur grabbed for his only vice. A whiskey bottle. He offered her a drink, but she declined. Even if she did drink, her stomach couldn't handle it right now. He leaned against the desk. He didn't look at her for a while, focusing on his drink. "He went looking for you," he said, "You know, this morning. Polly told him you would've calmed down by then. H-He really cares about you."

"If he cares about me so much, why doesn't he trust me like he trusted Grace? This Grace woman gets the best side of him and I get what's left. It's already unfair that I have to come after him because he's too stubborn and scared to come after me. Now, I have to hear it from her about how unimportant I probably am to him," she said harshly. She then saw Arthur's face, and said, "I'm sorry, Arthur. It's not your fault."

"It's okay, love," he said. "I understand what you mean. Rosie," he began, "You have to understand, he-he built up something good with Grace and then the bitch went and tore it all down. He thought he was coming home to a woman who loved him, but instead he got a note telling him she didn't want him. Polly said they'd gotten into it with some Lee women, and they were going at it back and forth. Apparently, they threatened Grace at some point, and she split town. Her leaving crushed him, okay? Like, he doesn't say so, but I know it did. He's only doing what any sane man would do for you."

"And that is?"

"Keeping you away from it," he said. "So, you're safe. I would've done it too if it were me." She chuckled a little, looking at him. "What? What is it?"

"Just when I think you're just a rough man who likes to drink, you prove that you're actually quite sweet," she said.

"Well, let's keep that between us. I got a reputation to protect."

She giggled, "Sure you do."

Rose saw something move out of the corner of her eye. She already knew it was him. She turned her head and saw him walk into the shop with Mr. Weston and another man she didn't know. Tommy didn't look at her in surprise or shock. He wasn't angry either. She saw something softer in Tommy's eyes. He stopped for a moment so Mr. Weston could greet Polly and John, but he hardly paid attention. He took her in as if he hadn't seen her in years rather than a day. He called for Arthur, who excused himself and walked out into the shop. Tommy introduced Arthur, who she assumed took over as tour guide of the shop, since he began leading the two men around. He made for the office instead.

Once he shut the door, he put his hands in his pockets and continued staring. She stared back. Everything she'd planned on saying to him escaped her. She could only draw blanks. Rose didn't know how she should approach this either. She wasn't sure how to apologize to someone without sounding so pitiful and pathetic. A part of her hoped he would tell her to go on the count of his business meeting. Perhaps he was thinking of a way of putting it politely.

"I'm sorry," he said, breaking the silence. She couldn't read him like he could read her. John shifted his weight under nervous pressure; Arthur won't make eye contact and stammered. Tommy stood relaxed and calm, "For yesterday."

She twiddled the corner of her cardigan, "Me too."

They fell back into silence. She stared around, the cotton fabric of her cardigan between her fingers, but her eyes always returned to him. It reminded her of home; that looming silence occasionally broken by slurred commands and angry threats. The dread would linger within the quietness, and it'd rattle her nerves with every thump heard above her. Yet, she wasn't in the basement anymore. She stood in the gambling den's office with Tommy. Rose felt so small under his gaze. The courage she'd felt yesterday abandoned her in this moment of need. Tommy said nothing to her as he walked to his desk. She watched him open a drawer and retrieve a book.

"I got you this," he said, handing her the book.

A book? Rose took the book in her hands, the hardcover engraved with the illustration of a boy taking the hand of a young girl standing at the window seat of her bedroom. She read the glossy gold letters that spelled 'Peter Pan'. She wished Tommy had given her any other book but this one. The name alone brought up memories she'd rather keep out of her new life.

' _I am fed up with this reading business! You're too stupid to read!'_

She could hear him ripping the pages and her watching them fall to the floor. Rose recalled picking up the scattered pages and putting them back together the best she could. After that, she hid all the books she found: Under the boxes, behind the shelves, and in the broken furniture he never touches. This is his peace offering. She'd accept it. Rose looked up at Tommy and said, "I love it. Thank you."

"I'd been passing by a book shop and saw it," he explained. "I remember you told me this was your favorite."

"It was," she said. She'd found the book in the basement with a bunch of other dusty books. It'd been the one she liked the most. "One of them, anyways," she added.

"I know you like them," he said. "There's a book shop nearby, if you ever want new ones." Tommy was good at many things, but she sensed his uncertainty. "Shopkeeper will let you have whatever you like. Free of charge."

 _'Free of charge, by order of the Peaky Blinders,'_ she thought.

She shuffled her feet, boots scraping the floor underneath them. "I didn't mean to get so upset yesterday. I was only-I don't normally-"

"You were helping John," he finished.

"Yes," she nodded. "John asked me to help him and-"

"-And your first instinct was aggression?" he raised an eyebrow at her.

"No," she immediately said. "You weren't exactly gentle about it either." She remembered his promise: that the whole situation would blow up in her face.

"But that's normal for me," he explained. "You're you."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"That you're a sweet, quiet, gentle person," he said. "You don't get angry. You never lash out or raise your voice at anyone. You certainly never did that to me."

"You mean like Grace?"

She knew the name hit him. She hugged the book to her chest, staring back into those crystal eyes of his. The eyes that suggested she should've kept her mouth shut. "What?"

"N-Nothing," she said, looking away.

"You talked to her?" he asked. "How?"

"She-She came to the pub," she told him.

"She's here? In Birmingham? How? Why?"

"She's married to Campbell," she answered. "She followed him here."

The news stunned him, though he kept a collected face. "What did she tell you?"

"Everything about you two; all the things you used to do together. We talked about her husband, how they met, and that they're trying to start a family now," she answered, "But she kept on going back to you and how close she was with you. She kept telling me how involved she'd been in all of this, and that she used to help you with-you know-things."

He stayed quiet a moment, and then said, "She told you about that, eh? The robberies? Helping in the shop?"

"She did."

"Well," he sighed, "What she neglected to mention was how much Polly hated her."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Polly doesn't work with anyone she doesn't like," Tommy said. "In fact, she was so against Grace working here, she had Grace working with the runners instead of in the shop. That way, she didn't have to look at her. So, you can imagine Grace didn't know as much as she pretends."

Rose felt foolish now. "She was trying to make me jealous," she said.

"She was," he nodded. "But, I'm sure you snapped back with something."

Rose couldn't help the smile, "I might have mentioned that her husband has been visiting the pub a lot when she's not around."

"He has?"

"Harry says he has," she said, "But I've never seen him."

Tommy let that sit between them for a moment. Yet, before they could continue the conversation, somebody entered the office.

"Tommy," Mr. Weston came in with his son in tow. He dressed like a wealthy man: satin lined coat, walking stick with a silver wolf's head on it, with a bowler hat and shiny shoes. "You have a nice set up here. I'm impressed."

"And business must be good now that you know who's gonna win before the odds are set," his son said.

Tommy suddenly changed from concerned lover to businessman. Rose wasn't surprised. "Thank you," Tommy said, "We're all very proud of it, and the information's more than appreciated."

"Though, I do have one concern," Mr. Weston said.

"Yes?"

Mr. Weston looked over his shoulder and spotted Rose. He smiled brightly, "Oh Ms. Wick. I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there. It's good to see you."

"You too, sir."

"I don't believe you've met my son, Nigel," he turned to the man in a pin-striped suit with a bowler hat similar to his father's.

"Pleasure, Miss," Nigel said in a rough voice, tipping his hat.

"Oh yes, Charlotte told me about you," Rose said. "She said you run the shipping yards?"

"I do," he nodded. "You ought to come by sometime. The view of the river from my office is lovely."

"Let us not get sidetracked now," Mr. Weston said. He turned to Tommy, "We can discuss the business later, if you like?"

"Oh no, it's fine," Tommy said. "Rose is something of a partner around here," he looked over at her, "Whatever you say to me you can say around her. She's very trustworthy."

"Ah, I like that. A secretary and an employer who have a trusting relationship," Mr. Weston smiled. He then went on to say, "My concern is the Lee Family. I heard they turned your shop over yesterday afternoon. They emptied out the cashboxes and took the day's winnings. How can I trust you to protect my business when you can't protect yours?"

Tommy didn't answer right away. Rose saw him struggling for an answer; insulted by the inquiry. Rose said, "The turn over was just retaliation for Cheltenham, sir. They only took the cash boxes and what they could get their hands on. A large chunk of our profits were locked up in the safe. What they did barely made a dent in our earnings, sir, and clearly," she nodded to the business outside, "Hasn't effected our clientele either." The Westons hated the Lees just as much as Tommy's family did. If they can't write it off as gossip, they could make a connection. She looked over at Tommy, who stared at her unbelievably. However, when she blinked, he nodded.

The men all gaped at her in surprise. "How many men were guarding the house?" Nigel asked, "When it happened, I mean?"

"Just the one," Tommy said, "We had a family meeting and we'd closed for the day. All the Lee family came, I was told. The brothers, cousins, and uncles. Even the bastards came here with rifles and guns, looting all the winnings."

"Psh, cowards," Nigel hissed. "I'd take any of them on in a fight if they ever fought fairly. The Lees are like rats. You kill one, another shows up in its place."

"Nigel, enough," Mr. Weston said. He turned back to Tommy, "I'm assuming you've recovered then?"

"As Rose mentioned, we earned back double than what we lost yesterday. The Lees hardly seem like a problem to me. Do they to you?"

"No they fucking don't," Nigel spat.

"Nigel! There's a lady in the room. Watch your tongue," Mr. Weston scolded.

Nigel rolled his eyes but said, "Excuse my language, Miss."

Mr. Weston pulled out an envelope from his jacket, handing it to Tommy. "I spoke with a few friends I have on the racing board, and they were more than happy to do a favor for me. I think you'll find all our terms are in order. All you need to do is sign," he pulled out a pen from his breast pocket. For the briefest moment, Rose saw a holstered gun.

Tommy slipped the contract out of the envelope. Rose read the fine heading, and the black ink spelling out their authorization. She saw Mr. Weston already signed the bottom, but left the other spaces empty. She watched him gladly sign the paper on the dotted line, a pleased smile growing on his handsome face. Rose felt glad for him.

"Thank you for this, Richard," Tommy said, handing the pen over to Mr. Weston. "It's an honor. Really."

"It's me who should be thanking you," Mr. Weston said. "You've given me more than I would've asked for. I'm sure my bookies and bagmen will be better protected now that the Peaky Blinders are my security." He checked his pocket watch, "Oh, look at the time! It's almost four o'clock!"

"Sir?" Rose questioned.

"Mum has tea time and usually demands the family be there," Nigel explained. "It's a Weston thing."

"We Westons get very scattered throughout the day. We must be off."

Hands shook hands and goodbyes were said. "Rosie," Tommy said, "Why don't you show Mr. Weston out? Then you can come back to work."

"Alright," she smiled at him. She looked to Mr. Weston and Nigel, "Follow me, please."

She walked them to their car, a shiny black one with windows and a driver sitting across the road. "It was nice seeing you, Mr. Weston, Nigel."

Nigel opened the door for his father. "And it's always a pleasure with you, Ms. Wick," Mr. Weston said. "Perhaps you can stop by for tea sometime? Prudence absolutely adores your company."

"Of course," she beamed, "Four o'clock, I'm assuming?"

He chuckled, "Yes. Prudence is very prompt and keeps her routine well. Stop by any day you'd like. We're always home."

"I'll do that."

She bid them both farewell, and headed on back into the shop. When she entered, she found Tommy standing at the forefront of the room with the contract in his hand.

"Rosie," Tommy called to her, "Come here." He took her hand and she stood beside him. Her body felt electric now. She looked out into the crowd, seeing Polly and Arthur right away. They already knew what was coming, yet still seemed surprised by her appearance. He let go of her hand and addressed his men.

"Gentlemen and ladies," he began, "I have here in my hand a legal betting license issued by the board of control." He held up the paper for everyone to see it, "The Shelby Family has its first legal racetrack pitch."

The room went into applause and cheers at the news. Rose clapped along with them. She saw Tommy have the widest smile on his face as he shook his brothers' hands and hugged Polly. She watched the family all celebrate in front of her. She felt happy for him. He'd worked so hard for this license and now he had it. He also acquired it easier than he imagined. Polly looked at her.

"Well don't just stand there! Come here!" Polly came to her, arms out and embracing her. "I'm so happy you're here for this. It wouldn't have been right without you."

Rose giggled. "I just happened to be here when they came."

"Because you're meant to be here with us," she said.

After Polly, Arthur swept her into his arms and hugged her close to him. John squeezed her until she cried out, laughing the whole time and talking about "that Rosie charm" before kissing her cheek. Arthur called for a round of drinks, which Tommy allowed for the one day. Rose felt the spirit running through her. She felt a part of them. She felt as if she was finally belonging. Maybe Grace was wrong.

When she looked at Tommy, they stood on the outskirts of the celebration. "I'm happy for you," she said, "You're finally becoming legitimate."

"In a way," he said, looking at the license. He stared back at her, "That was good thinking you did back there; using the Weston's dislike of the Lees that way."

"Richard Weston doesn't seem like the sort of man people lie to," she said, "Or is easily duped."

"He's not. I'm glad you caught on to that." They watched people pouring out whiskey and wine, chattering and laughing as if the shop suddenly became a large party room instead. "I meant what I said," Tommy said after a while, "You are trustworthy; more than some other people I know."

"What are you saying, Tommy?"

"That if there was anyone in the world I wanted to have by my side, it'd be you."

* * *

" _Blimey, Dad," Nigel said halfway down Watery Lane. "Lottie was right. She does look like Nancy."_

 _Richard nodded, "That she does."_

" _She seems like a sweetheart," Nigel said as the car started, "Though, I can't tell much by the company she keeps."_

" _Who? Thomas? Oh no, he's harmless to people like Rosie. It's Kimber who should be on the lookout."_

" _What makes you so sure this Tommy kid can handle Kimber. Kimber has more men, more guns." Nigel told him.  
_

" _He's ambitious. He studies his enemies. He knows when to move in. He reminds me of myself at his age. Trust me, he'll work it out. If not, then I'll give him a little shove in the right direction."  
_

 _"And why would he go to you?"_

 _"Because we're like minded men," he said._

 _Nigel smirked, "And all this time I thought we were like minded, Dad."  
_

 _Richard laughed, "No, no, son. You are like your uncle Wallace. Always ready for a fight."_

 _"Ain't it the truth, though?"_

 _The two Westons laughed as the car rolled through Small Heath. Richard thought on Rosie, and the company she kept these days. He wasn't worried in the slightest. Rosie was a Weston whether she knew it or not, and Westons could take on anything._


	20. Chapter 20

Rose surprised him. Two weeks into her employment, she'd already worked out a new system, oversaw their contraband imports and accounted for every single bottle and cigarette that passed through. She learned little by little along the way, mostly through trial-and-error and reading up on what she could. He'd often walk into the little office inside The Garrison and find her scribbling numbers into the accounting books or counting money. She was also surprisingly skilled at shifting money from the shop around so it filtered through the pub and came out clean the other end. She learned quickly and applied it even quicker. Tommy worried he might regret having such a gentle person around the boys, but they were respectful to her. She even handled Richard and Cheltenham for him. She turned out very good for business.

In truth, he hired her so he could be around her more.

However, whenever the quietness came over him in the night, he thought of her. Grace. Grace Burgess-Campbell, the girl who constantly insisted she'd never marry. He couldn't stop the resentment from coming on. He recalled all those times he considered proposing to her before the war. They would've had a nice, small wedding underneath a beautiful, flowery arch. Johnny or Jeremiah Jesus would perform the ceremony, and they'd spend the night dancing away before the final wedding night. Grace could've been Grace Shelby if she wanted, yet she always told him she'd never settle. She liked her spinster ways despite what her family told her. He supposed somebody forced her into the marriage, or at least that's what he hoped.

Tommy avoided going uptown. He heard from Jeremiah that she only came down for the market. She hadn't gone back to The Garrison or dwelled anywhere she shouldn't. He supposed Grace hoped Rose would spill some information about Ada and Freddie or perhaps their operations. Rose turned out as unhelpful as she pretended. Polly said that indicated her loyalty and trustworthiness, but of course she said this with a knowing smile. He'd make his way out of the room when that happened.

Unfortunately, he learned he could avoid Grace, but Grace won't avoid him. The shop cleared out for the day, but Tommy stayed so he could overlook the takings himself. Some of the numbers were in Polly's hand and Scudboat's or John's, but the ones he noticed were Rose's. He knew by the sharp 7's and the perfect 8's. He snorted seeing a small happy face in one of the 0's, even when he told her not to anymore.

He smelled her perfume before she even took the seat in front of him. It wasn't the same floral scent she'd worn years ago. It was a fancy, expensive one that wrinkled his nose. He almost didn't look up from the book. He couldn't. He didn't think he could handle seeing her so close to him now. Sadly, Tommy did look up. He wasn't shocked at what he saw. She wore a burgundy velvet dress that matched her necklace. He also didn't ignore the golden diamond ring on her finger.

"Tommy…" she said. She looked like a lady now. She acted like one too with her crossed legs and long skirt.

"Grace…" he replied. "What are you doing here?"

"I can't visit an old friend?"

'Friend'. He'd been reduced to a 'friend'. "No, you can't."

He spotted a splash of hurt in her eyes, though she kept it hidden. "I'm sure you've heard by now," she said, "That I got married?"

"Yes, to a man who could be your father," he said, going back to his book. Rose's handwriting popped up at him again. He loved the way she'd written 'Daniel'. He didn't know why. Her writing was so elegant and neat.

He hated how tense he felt now. The feeling came over him far too easily these days. With his meeting with the Lees coming soon, Campbell hunting down his sister and her husband like a mad dog, and Campbell's unusual interest in Rose, he felt uneasy a lot these days. "How have you been?"

"Fine."

"Polly? John and Arthur? Finn? He'd be ten by now, right?"

"Eleven," he corrected, "And they're fine."

"Business-"

"-Please, Grace. Don't sit there and act as if you care about anything that goes on here. You walked out on me when I needed you because you only care about your own fucking self," he said. He knew he couldn't snap or round on her. It'd only mean she got under his skin.

"Tommy," she said, "I'm-I'm sorry. I never meant for things to end how they did."

"But they did."

"My parents were sending me away to Ireland," she admitted. "I didn't know how to tell you."

"So, you decided you'd simply leave a note and I would be fine with it?" He added an extra zero to John's writing.

"I know you wouldn't be," she said, "And I feel guilty that I didn't tell you the truth. You deserved it after everything we did together."

"Which is why your husband knew about the tobacco warf and our contraband movements," he said. "Thank you for that, by the way. We had to change our entire system and ship dates because of you and your husband." Thankfully he had Rose, who suggested a different route through the river from the docks. Nigel helped her, she said. He offered his smuggler boats in extra for a small percentage of their sales.

She exhaled. He knew she was becoming frustrated now. "He asked me, and I couldn't lie to him. I am his wife."

"Yes you are so why are you really here?" he asked, looking at her now.

She leaned over until she was close enough to him on the desk. He recognized the hint in her eyes. Her perfume engulfed him, the artificial scent filling his lungs. "Because I missed you," she said lowly. "I wanted to apologize to you. It wasn't fair or right what I did."

"No it wasn't," he said. "You've already apologized. You can go."

"Tommy," she said, "I mean it. I'm sorry. I know how much it must've hurt when you found out I went away-"

"-It did," he confessed. "I…I needed you. I fucking _needed_ you and you just fucking…"

She didn't look at him. She twirled her ring on her finger, contemplating its meaning. "Remember that time you took me with you down the river so we could pick up those motorbikes? How the police found them before we could get there and we had to fight them?" she gave a small laugh, "I remember how you tried protecting me by telling me to go, but I wouldn't. I didn't want to leave you there to get arrested on your own. We got away on one of the bikes, remember?"

"I do," he said, "Buyer wasn't happy about it."

"But it was fun," she said.

"I also couldn't use that port for a while because they kept on patrolling that area," he added. Rose's numbers always added up perfectly. He wondered how a girl who lived in a basement learned her arithmetic like this.

"Do you still use it?"

"I might," he wouldn't tell her.

"What about the storage house by the river bank?" she said, "The one we used to go to when we wanted-"

"-I don't use it anymore," he lied. "It's old and decaying. It's also got rats, and I can't have them chewing up the boxes."

"I was talking to Chester last night, because I asked him why he was so interested in you," she said, "And he told me he said you stole some guns from the military. He made a deal with you that when you took down Billy Kimber, then he'd get his guns."

"He will," he said.

"But you already have Kimber's operation," she said, "So…why haven't you told him?"

"Because Kimber isn't gonna be happy about what happened," he said. "I only took away his track at Cheltenham; he's still side-betting with other tracks."

"And you want those?"

"I do."

"And the Westons can't help you with that?"

"No, they can't," he said, "Make sure your husband knows that."

A small silence came between them. Tommy couldn't stand her perfume much longer. He lit a cigarette only because it overpowered the perfume. He thought about Rose. She'd be headed back to the pub for the evening crowd. He saw she'd scribbled notes in the notes section. They were reminders for everyone else for the week.

"I don't love him, you know," she then said, "I-I thought I did when I married him, but the longer I was with him, I realized I didn't. I wanted to come back. I wanted to be here with you. You meant so much to me Tommy." She reached for his hand, but he withdrew.

"Then why didn't you? You've always been good at doing the opposite of what you're told. Why didn't you leave? Hm?" She certainly didn't mind leaving him. Why was Campbell so different?

"I…" she said, "I knew you wouldn't want me. I knew you would've moved on from me."

"I suppose."

"I heard you have somebody," she said, "That barmaid at The Garrison."

"I do, I guess."

"You guess? She seems quite keen about you. It's a shame you don't feel the same."

"I never said I didn't." In fact, he felt the same. He really did.

"You took her horse riding. You took her on a picnic. You…" her voice trailed off. He could tell it bothered her. She clutched the end of her dress and took a deep breath. "I'm only saying you've given her a lot of special attention."

"She is renting the apartment above the pub," he said. "I would be kind to somebody who always pays on time and doesn't cause a fuss." Of course, this was only half true. He decided not to charge Rose for the flat. He couldn't force her to pay him. She'd done enough for him already.

"That's not right. You shouldn't lead a girl on like that, especially one like her."

"One like her?"

"You know, those simple little farm girls who come into the big city with all these dreams in their heads," she explained. "She might be getting the wrong idea about you two. She seems sweet. Farm girls tend to get their hearts broken easily, being so naive and fragile."

"Don't talk about her," he said, "You don't know her." Tommy spotted little black stars beside some of the names, and noticed they were high rollers. People to look out for, he supposed, pointed out by Rose.

"And she doesn't know you," she said. "The real you. She doesn't know how you'd use her for business if you had to, and how you always have business on your mind. You probably put all of this before her," she motioned to the book on his desk. "She doesn't know all the secrets you probably keep from her."

"I don't keep things from her," he lied. He could only think of one thing he kept from her, and it ate at him whenever he saw her.

"Yes, you do. You used to keep things from me all the time," she said. "And I bet you she'd get all weepy and cry her eyes out if you told her the truth. She'd finally realize her world isn't full of sunshine and rainbows on the farm."

"What did I tell you? Leave her out of this. You don't know her."

"I know enough to know that if you got her in bed, she wouldn't know what to do with you," she said.

"What did I just say?" he asked, looking up at her. Bad mouthing Rose wouldn't get her anywhere.

"I missed you, Tommy. I missed your smile, your eyes, and your lips. I could be myself around you because we were the same person," she said. "You said it yourself once. We were connected, you and me. I helped you. I took care of you when you got a beating and stayed even when you went to war."

"Didn't stay for long, did you?"

She paused. Then he saw exactly what he expected from her. "She's a pretty thing, your farm girl, but she doesn't know you like I do," she pushed some hair from his face.

' _She's learning,'_ he thought. _'She's learning because she wants to be close to me.'_

"She wouldn't know what to do when she did see the real you." She scooted closer to him on the desk. "I can only imagine how she'd fumble and stumble trying to please you. I know I did."

"Sure."

"But there was always one thing you liked about me," she said.

He never thought she'd stoop to such pathetic levels. It wasn't like her.

"I'm not interested in that."

She smirked, "Then what are you interested in?"

Tommy shared her same smile. He stood from his chair, putting his hand on Grace's gently. He leaned into her. He stopped an inch or so from her face. She really was as beautiful as he remembered. Her hair was shorter and curlier than he recalled. The make-up made her livelier. He was sure she turned heads wherever she went in the world. Tommy touched her hair, letting it slide through his fingers until it sprung back. She expected his kiss. He almost laughed. He finally said, "Rose, that simple little farm girl that you're so jealous of."

The seductive shell fell away from her, and he saw the jealous monster in her eyes. She slapped him hard, but he was used to her hits. He watched her pick up her purse and walk out. She came for the guns, hoping for a bit more, and left with nothing. He wouldn't let her win. He knew she'd go running to her husband about what happened.

Tommy thought Campbell was better than that.

He shut the book and blocked Rose's pretty handwriting from his view. Tommy thought back to their spat. He knew he'd end up spiting Rose by proving Lizzie's intentions with John weren't as pure hearted as she'd hoped. Putting her faith in a woman she didn't know was questionable. He knew it'd crush her when he turned out to be right. For once, Tommy didn't want to say 'I-told-you-so'. Yet, he needed to do this for John. He wouldn't let him brother fall into a marriage that wasn't true. Besides, he'd need a single brother who was halfway decent soon. If John was so desperate for a wife he'd marry Lizzie, then Tommy would give him one.

He thought of his promise to Richard as he pulled on his suit jacket. If anyone deserved truth, it'd be Rose. She'd done so many good things for people, and yet they kept secrets from her. Including him. She went to the shelter even when she didn't have to go; she helped him in the shop when she could have said no; she certainly didn't have to help John try and win him over with their weak arguments. Then at the end, these same people kept things from her. Putting out his cigarette and getting his hat from the hook, he couldn't let it eat at him anymore. He'd see her tonight.

* * *

She noticed his attitude before he even said anything. He didn't seem his usual cheery, slightly flirty self. Rose brought him the bottle of whiskey he asked for and set it down with a glass in the private room. John sat alone, pouring himself glass after glass without his brother. She could sense the misery within him. He didn't speak or acknowledge her for a while when she took a seat beside him. She didn't push him to answer either. Rose merely sat next to John in silence.

"She lied to me," he finally said after a time.

"Lizzie?"

"Yeah. She lied to me," he repeated. "Sh-She hadn't changed at all. I asked her when Tommy told me about them and how she took the money he offered her," he said, "An-And she told me that he was a liar, and none of it was true."

"Maybe," she said, "Maybe he said that to break you up-"

"-No, no, he didn't. Tommy might be sneaky and clever and shit, but he wouldn't make something like that up. He wouldn't. I-I ta-talked to her sister and her cousin. They said it was just a couple of regulars," he drank his whiskey and poured another. "I feel like such an idiot!" she saw the tears threatening to go down his cheeks. He hid them from her. "I-I should have known it wouldn't have happened. Nothing good ever happens to me."

"That's not true, John," she said, "Good things have happened to you. You have four little boys that all love you. You married somebody you loved. You have a family that cares for you. Those aren't so bad."

"You know," he said, "Sometimes you remind me of Martha, my wife. She died a while back. Sh-She was a lot like you. You know, really kind and generous. I always…I always wondered why she loved me. I wasn't smart or clever like Tommy, and I wasn't as tough or funny as Arthur. I-I was just me."

"She saw how sweet and good you are," Rose said. "I know I see it."

He stared at her; tears welled up in his eyes, but he blinked them back. They weren't like Tommy's ice or Arthur's oceans. They had a hint of green. "You know, I meant what I said."

"What did you say?"

"When I was telling everyone about Lizzie and me," he said, "And I said I would've asked you but you already had Tommy? I meant it. I would have. You're a good woman and my kids like you. We-We'd have family dinners and you could read to Ethan all the time. He likes being read to. If things were different, w-we could be something nice." The thought cheered him up some. John always insisted he didn't like Rose how his brothers did, but she grew a suspicion that wasn't completely true.

"I suppose," she said.

"I like being friends though," he said. "I'm not mad about it like Arthur. You should be with whoever you want. You're a good friend, Rosie."

"I like being friends too," she smiled.

She couldn't get it out of her head, no matter how pleasant the conversation became. Not only had she been wrong about Lizzie, but Tommy had been with Lizzie. She knew it was stupid to care. Tommy's past lovers shouldn't matter now, just like how Grace didn't matter anymore. She wouldn't ask John about it in fear of ruining his mood. She wouldn't bother Tommy with it either. He wouldn't tell her anyways.

"I-I gotta see Tommy," he finally said, stumbling when he stood from the table. "I have to tell him the news."

"You don't have to tell him today. It can wait. He probably already knows anyways," she was sure he investigated the matter himself.

"No, no, I'm gonna tell him. I'm gonna te-tell him that he was right and we were wrong, because he absolutely loves hearing it!"

The rage layer of his drunkenness was coming on. Rose felt iffy about letting him leave, but John didn't listen. He walked out the door despite her warnings otherwise. She hoped he'd sober up by the time he reached Polly's house. Rose continued working, serving men at the bar and washing the mugs. Harry went home close to closing time. She dried up the glasses when she heard the doors open.

"Rose," Tommy came into the pub, taking off his hat and placing it on one of the tables, "The usual." She got him a bottle of whiskey and a glass. She noticed his quietness. He seemed worried about something. "Come sit with me," he sat at the table, "There's something I have to tell you."

"If you're here to gloat about John and Lizzie, I already know," she said. "You don't have to-"

"-It's not about John and Lizzie. That doesn't matter right now. Come here."

Rose stopped drying the glasses and sat in the chair opposite him. She watched him light a cigarette and take a long drag from it. He looked at her through his thick cloud, studying her from where he sat. She felt uneasy under his gaze. Something dreadful was coming and she knew it. "What's the matter then?"

"Grace came to see me today," he said first.

"What did she say?"

"She tried finding out about the guns, told me she was married, and tried to seduce me," he said plainly. "She also told me that I keep secrets from you."

"And do you?"

"I keep some things to myself because I-I don't want to talk about them," he told her, "But there is one thing that eats at me every time I see you."

"What is it?"

He poured himself a drink and shot it back down his throat in one gulp. Wincing at the burning alcohol in his throat, he took another drag from his cigarette. "I tried keeping it from you because it's not my secret to tell, but I think if John deserves the truth then so do you." She'd never seen him so reluctant before. He always knew how to tell her things. "It's-It's something that might shock you or scare you or anger you. I'm telling you this because I care about you, Rose. I don't want there to be any secrets between us."

She chuckled, "Then tell me, Tommy. What is it?"

"Richard Weston."

"What about him?"

"He and his family haven't been a hundred-percent honest with you." She watched him a bit more closely. He took another puff of his cigarette, and then said, "Do you know why they're so nice to you when they see you? Why they include you in things? Why Richard Weston was so willing to take up business with me and even push Kimber out of the picture for me?"

She didn't really look at it that way. She never really questioned their kindness before, and she didn't want the truth now. "They're good people, Tommy."

"They are," he said, "Sort of."

"What do you mean 'sort of'?"

"The shelter and the charity groups and the legal businesses are all just fronts, Rosie. They play the part of rich people because they have to," he said. "Did you know Richard started out exactly how I did? He was a criminal who robbed, lied, cheated and killed his way to the top. He isn't as squeaky clean as he pretends, Rosie-

"-Why are you telling me this, Tommy? Why does that matter?"

He took her hands in his. Tommy kissed her knuckles, and said, "Because he's your granddad."

Rose thought she'd heard him wrong. She replayed what he'd said, and couldn't process them right away. She didn't believe it. Honestly, it seemed too good to be true. If he was her grandfather, why didn't he get her after her mother died? Why did he let her suffer for so long? A man with as many connections as himself should've been able to find a large, bald man who owns chickens. They were a rather large, successful family. How could none of them find her? "You're lying," she said, pulling her hands away from him.

"I'm not. Why do you think they're so kind to you? Because they pity you? No. You're one of them, Rosie," he said. "Your mum was Nancy Weston. She married your father after he got her pregnant, and they ran off together."

Her chest felt tight and her throat was dry. She clutched her apron, digging her nails into the fabric. Rose couldn't believe what he told her. "How do you know that?"

"Because Richard told me," he said.

"So you knew?"

"I did."

"Why didn't you say anything sooner?"

"Like I said, it wasn't my secret to tell."

"You're telling it now."

"Because you should know," he said, "Because I didn't want to hide it from you anymore."

Her eyes stung but no tears came. She crossed her arms over her stomach, feeling that sickening cramping feeling inside. "Why didn't they say anything to me? Where were they all those years? Sipping champagne and playing golf?" she said, "Where were they when he was beating and torturing me? Did he tell you that, Tommy? Huh?"

"Rosie, they tried finding you-"

"-Oh bullshit!" she shouted. "A man who has his hands in a bunch of different pockets couldn't find one stupid farmhand? I don't believe that. I don't believe it at all."

"They went to your house after your mother died, but you'd already gone."

She shook her head rapidly, "No, no. That's not true. We left the house because we were being kicked out and had to leave. He said I had to pack my things, so we can start our new life somewhere else."

"No, Rosie. He kidnapped you."

"He can't kidnap me. He's my father."

"But they knew how terrible he was," he said. "The police were after him. It's why he ran."

"My father might've been abusive, but he never got into any lega-"

"-He did this time. I won't tell you why-"

"-Tell me! We wouldn't want any secrets between us, right?!"

"Rose, I can't tell you. It'll…It'll hurt you."

"But you tell the truth whether it hurts or not, don't you?"

"He killed your mother."

Her body froze up. She felt her blood run cold and her hands shook. "Ho-How dare you…"

"Rose…"

"How dare you make up something like."

"I'm not making it up, Rose. Richard will show you the reports if you want. There's a warrant out for your father's arrest, and there always has been," he said. "Edward Jameson wanted for the murder of his wife Nancy Weston Jame-"

"-Shut up!" she covered her ears, shaking her head. "Just shut up! No! She died from an illness! She was sick! He didn't-He wouldn't go that far!"

"He did and he would've done the same to you!" Tommy pulled up her sleeves, showing her the scars. "Rose, if he could do this to you then imagine what he did to your mother when you were a little girl! Think about it! If a man can hurt his own daughter, imagine what his wife endured!" She closed her eyes and kept shaking her head, tears finally coming. "Rosie, please! You have to believe me! Why are you so surprised?! Why are you so blind?! Why are you fucking defending him?!"

"He told me she got sick in the hospital!"

"Well, he fucking lied to you! Rose, you need to fucking wake up! You need to get your head out of the fairytales and the lies and see this for what it is! He's been lying to you your whole life! He even lied about your name! Your bloody name! Rosie! Rosie! Look at me!" He touched her jaw and lifted her head, "Look at me, petal. Please…"

She continued sobbing, taking her hands off her ears. She hardly remembered the day they left home and moved to the country; she'd been so young when it happened. Rose would get the bits in blurs of her dreams. She met his eyes, caring and concerned, and said, "He wouldn't let me see her body. He-H-He told me that I was too little and it'd scare me. He buried her in-in-in an unmar-ar-ked grave in a field, he said. He told me he nailed up the box and everything. He wouldn't tell me where she was! He wouldn't tell me where she was! I have no idea where she is! I can't see her ever! It's not fair! It's not right!" Her sobs ripped through her chest and up her throat. "I-I-I try so ha-hard to be-be-be good, and I-I ge-get nothing! Nothing!"

Rose left the table and went for the stairs. She felt everything boiling over. She couldn't pretend everything was okay anymore because it wasn't. She had to escape her own home like a damn rat. She spent all her time around people who lied to her. The betrayal, the dishonesty began cracking at her little by little. She felt dumber by the step. She'd been so foolish. She'd been so blind.

"Rosie! Rosie, wait!" Tommy followed her up the stairs and took her in his arms. She struggled with him on the landing, hitting his shoulders and twisting this way and that. His touch only electrified her. It only set her off more. "Rose, listen to me. Rose, Rose, listen to me. Listen," he pleaded, stroking her hair and wiping the tears from her cheeks, "Go to them tomorrow. I'll go with you. I'll _take_ you there. I'll be there with you."

"Why?"

"Because I love you, Rose." He pulled her close and held her, "Because I fucking love you; because when I hear Campbell's been around you, I don't think of you spilling secrets. I think of him hurting you. Because when Grace was flirting and talking to me, I kept thinking of those little smiley faces in the accounting book and how you made perfect figure eights each time. I feel normal; I forget everything in the world for just a little while, and pretend it's only us. I love you, Rose Wick or Jameson or Weston or whatever you want to be called. I love you. I said it, and I'll say it as much as you want, just please. Don't cry anymore." He kissed the top of her head and rubbed her back soothingly. "Don't cry, petal. Please."

Her sobs became sniffled whimpers. When he let go of her, she felt all his warmth vanish with him. Her body moved stiffly and awkwardly as he led her down the hall to her door. Her face felt puffy and red, and her cheeks were hot. She coughed the roughness out of her throat. Hearing him say those three words alleviated her pain only slightly. She sat down at the table while he made tea. She was glad for it, since the stress brought a pain to her head. Tommy took care of her in a way she didn't expect from him. She could see Arthur giving her a glass of water or John wiping her face with a cold cloth, but not Tommy. Once he helped her into her nightdress, he tucked her into bed. He didn't touch her anywhere inappropriate. He stayed in his shirt and trousers, lying over the covers. Tommy peppered her face with kisses, whispered 'I love you's to her, told her funny stories with all the voices, and held her the entire night. She was safe. She was okay with him.

She would see the Westons tomorrow.


	21. Chapter 21

**TW: Abuse and Violence (I know it's been mentioned before, but this is like full disclosure in this chapter, and I don't want to trigger or upset anyone who's sensitive to stuff like that.)**

The car sat parked by the front steps. Rose looked up at the large white house and felt a million things at once. She'd spent most of the night sleeping beside Tommy, who comforted her in the best way. He'd helped when her shaking hands made it difficult to dress. He tied her brassiere for her, slid up her stockings and clipped them to her garter belts, and brushed her hair. Never in a million years would she expect Tommy Shelby to be so soothing. Occasionally, he'd slip in a kiss or two, like when he kissed the inner parts of her knees and her neck. Yet, despite how loving he'd been, she couldn't focus on his love. She only thought of the people who'd lied and abandoned her.

The Westons.

Sitting outside their home, that familiar tingle of nerves came over her again. A part of her wasn't sure about going through with this. She could always come back another day. She didn't have to face them today. However, something washed that dreadful feeling down. She wanted answers, and they would give them to her.

"Want me to come in with you?" he asked.

"No," she shook her head, "This is something I need to do myself."

He nodded in understanding. "I'll be here," he told her.

He kissed her cheek and she climbed out of the car. Rose walked on shaky knees as she reached the top of the steps to the door. She reached out for the doorbell, but someone opened the door right away.

"Hello Ms. Wick." It was Dot, the young chambermaid. She stood smiling in her maid's uniform, her light brown curls pinned up underneath her headband. "Are you here for Mrs. Weston?"

"Yes, I am," she said. "Is she here?" Rose already knew the answer. They had afternoon tea time, which Prudence allegedly never missed.

"She is," Dot nodded, "She's in the garden with Ms. Charlotte and Mr. Weston. Follow me."

Rose followed her into the large hallway. This time she didn't dare return the looks of Westons come and gone as she walked passed them. She only had eyes for the open doors at the end. She knew from greenhouse, they'd reach the outside garden which spread quite extensively from the house. Rose had hoped she'd only meet with Richard and Prudence, she hadn't anticipated Charlotte. They were her family. She had such a hard time processing the fact. She couldn't believe it when Tommy told her, and she still couldn't. Rose prayed it was all some terrible dream and she'd find out none of it was true. She even wished the whole thing had been a joke, because at least she could handle humiliation.

Their garden stood in an eternal spring. Bright flowers, old fountains spouting crystal clear water, healthy green grass and full trees trimmed to perfect shapes. Any other day, she would've marveled at it, but today she could barely pay attention. She focused on the white gazebo in the center of this floral paradise. She already made out the figures sitting around a white table, drinking from porcelain tea cups and eating their scones and biscuits on matching saucers. The scene bothered her. If they'd done their job as family members, Rose could've enjoyed the same luxuries. She'd have socialized at dinner parties, attended family Christmas feasts and gone on sunny holidays to foreign countries. She would've gone to university for business or nursing school. She'd have lived a rich and fulfilling life like the rest of them.

Most of all, she would have grown up being loved. Instead, she was treated less than human.

"Rosie!" Charlotte called with a smile. "We weren't expecting you today! What a nice surprise!"

She forced a smile, "Hello Charlotte."

Charlotte came down the steps, and hugged her. She smelled of floral perfume and wore a cotton pantsuit. She wondered if her mother ever dressed the same way. When Charlotte pulled away, her smile faded into worry. The hands on Rose's arms gripped her gently. She gulped the lump forming in her throat.

"Rose," she said softly, "I can explain…"

"Please do," Rose replied, "Because I have a hard time believing it."

"What's going on here?" Richard came down the steps with his walking stick. His smile also vanished.

"She knows, Dad," Charlotte answered.

Richard's shoulders stiffened. She saw his hand clutch the silver wolf's head on his stick. "Rose, darling, I-I-We…" he was at loss for words.

"We didn't mean for this to happen," Charlotte said. "We never thought…We thought we'd lost you forever. When we heard what happened to Nancy, we tried so hard finding you."

"Please, sit down with us," Richard said. "We will explain everything to you."

She saw the apology in their eyes, the same eyes that matched hers almost perfectly. They were her mother's eyes. How could she have not seen it before? How did that slip by her? She'd spent so much time looking at meaningless heirlooms that she hadn't paid attention. She felt like an idiot. Rose took a seat at their table. She glanced over at Prudence, who didn't greet her with her usual smile. She only held her cup and frowned.

"Rose," Richard began, "I can't begin to tell you how sorry we are for how this ended up. We tried so hard, and did so much and landed nowhere."

"We looked everywhere for you," Charlotte added. "Your great Uncle Wallace was chief commissioner at the time, and even he had all his forces searching for-for that man. He had a warrant put out for his arrest. He contacted other districts. He called every person he knew. I had sources tracking him."

"I called all my friends in the charity groups," Prudence said, "In case you turned up in an orphanage or-or-or-"she dabbed her teary eyes.

"-Or a morgue," Richard continued for her. "Edward Jameson closed out whatever accounts he carried. He abandoned his job here at our stables. From what I understand now, he even changed his name. He broke contact with anyone who could tell us where he might've gone."

Rose simply looked at them. She couldn't gather up anything to say except, "Why did you all stop looking?"

They remained silent, searching for an answer. "We…" Charlotte said carefully, "We-We thought he'd killed you. There was nothing to prove you'd be alive after what he did to Nancy."

"What did he do to her?" Rose asked.

"He was a monstrous man," Prudence said. "He beat Nancy all the time. She'd come to afternoon tea with unexplained bruises."

"She was frightened of him," Charlotte said. "She wouldn't leave him no matter how much we told her she could stay with us. I'd ask her what it was he'd do, and she wouldn't answer."

"She thought he'd come find her," Richard said. "She told me it didn't matter where she went or how far she got, he'd always find her. I told her that was preposterous. If she'd just come home…then…" he took in a deep breath and blinked back his own tears. Charlotte patted his hand.

"Then she stopped visiting all together," Prudence told her. "She said with you on the way, she couldn't travel very far."

"When you were born, she feared for your safety," said Richard. "She wouldn't leave you alone with him for even a second. I think he threatened to hurt you if she left him."

"He did," Rose said, "After he beat her to death."

Prudence let out a sob. Charlotte bit her bottom lip to suppress her tears, and Richard held on to his stick. "A neighbor found her," Charlotte said quietly. "A friend of hers said she'd fallen ill, and she'd heard screaming coming from the house. She told me this was a common occurrence at night, but this screaming sounded worse than usual. When he stormed from the house and walked down the street, she went to check on Nancy. Sh-She said Nancy was unconscious, barely breathing, and blood was splattered on the floor. She shouted for help, and help came, but not quick enough."

"How did they know who she was?"

"Because one of Alan's friends worked in the hospital," she said. "And he oversaw her care. He told us Nancy had a slight fever and a cold, but it would've lifted eventually."

"We went to the hospital," Richard said, "Charlotte and I."

"When I saw her, lying on that bed, bruised and broke and wrapped up," Charlotte let her tears flow now, their wetness smudging her make-up, "I-I-I didn't know what to do!" She sobbed. "I could've helped her! I could have saved her! I could have saved her! I tried so hard to help her! My little sister! She died alone and afraid!"

Prudence embraced her daughter. Richard looked at her, tears in his eyes as well, "They put in the report that she'd died from a bludgeoning. We were going to take her home and bury her in our family plot," he said. "Wh-when I came to retrieve her, she'd already gone. They said her husband had taken her."

"He buried her in a field," Rose told them. "She's in a field somewhere, unmarked and forgotten," she sniffled. "H-He packed us up in a hurry. He said we had to leave but wouldn't tell me why. I asked him where was mother, and he said she'd died from a fever."

This only made Charlotte and Prudence weep more. "That animal!" Prudence groaned, "That bloody animal!"

"He was fine f-for a while," Rose said, "When I turned nine, this gone worse and worse."

"No, no!" Charlotte said, "Please, don't say it! Don't tell us, please!"

Rose lifted up the silver cuffs on her wrists, showing them to the table. "He started cuffing me to a pipe in the basement when I tried to run away the first time," she said. "H-h-he beat me when I didn't do something right; he beat me when I did something he didn't like," her voice cracked slightly, "He would starve me. He'd lock me in the basement when he went on long jobs at ranches or stables. H-h-he did things to me I can't even say out loud!"

Richard reached for her, but she flinched away. She lifted up her side-wept bang, showing them the hairline scar, "He hit me with a hammer when I knocked over a stack of plates. The doctors said I was lucky I survived. I get migraines now from what he did to me. I take a tonic to help them go away, but sometimes even that doesn't help. He gave it to me usually, but sometimes he wouldn't let me have it. No matter how much I begged or pleaded; no matter how sick I became from it, he said I needed to earn my medicine." She breathed in and out slowly. She kept a handle on the emotions coursing through her. "He put out cigarettes on me, he once cut off my hair with a knife, and he's broken my bones and left me to treat them alone. He even used to make me kill the chickens! He'd stand over me and make me cut off their heads! He knew how much I hated hurting animals, and he laughed when I started to cry!" She remembered the hatchet he'd force into her hand, the way the chicken clucked and flapped its wings as she kept a hold on it. "He was an evil man and you left me with him! You left me! You left me, you left me, you left me!" She grabbed one of their cups and threw it against a pillar. "I tried so hard to be good! I thought if I gave some goodness to the world, then maybe things wouldn't be so terrible! I tried so hard to love! I have a man who loves me and it's so hard for me to believe he-or anyone-could love me because…because…"

"Because nobody loved you," Charlotte finished. Black mascara fell down her powdered cheeks, and she patted her mother's quivering figure. "I'm so sorry, Rose. We're sorry. We know there's nothing we can do for you."

"We all understand if you don't forgive us," Richard said. "I wouldn't if it were me. But, I want you to know that if you ever need anything, anything at all, you always have us."

"I want to see it," she demanded.

"See what?"

"The report. I want to see the report that they do when someone dies," she said, sniffling and gulping, "I want to read it myself. I know you have a copy of it. You have to have it. I want to see it! Now!"

Richard nodded. He called Dot up to the gazebo, and told her to go get "the red folder". Rose simmered down while they waited. Prudence's sobbing minimized to silent weeping and apologies, while Charlotte stared at her in pure sadness. Richard kept his eyes on his cup, his own tears coming now. Rose thought of Tommy sitting in the car, his peaked cap over his soft hair and his fine suit silhouetting his fit figure. He was a skinny man, but his body was iron. She remembered his gentle lips on her face, and how different he'd acted around her. She wished he were there now.

"Here, Mr. Weston," Dot came back with a red file.

"Thank you, Dorothy," he said.

He handed her the folder. Rose stood up from the table, holding the file in her hand. "I don't know if I ever will forgive any of you," Rose said. "I know I should forgive you for myself and my soul, but I don't think I can."

She left them. She ignored Dot's invitation to walk her out, and made her way for the greenhouse herself. The folder in her hand felt so surreal; it felt heavy. She wasn't sure what she'd find hidden in this folder. Rose could only guess this had everything pertaining to her mother inside, since the tab read 'Nancy' in slanted letters. She knew she wouldn't like what she found, but at least she'd have the truth. It was like mending an open wound. She anticipated the pain, yet might not like what she sees.

Tommy sat in the car, his usual cloud of smoke around him.

' _I have a man who loves me, and I don't know how to love him back…'_


	22. Chapter 22

She hadn't left her apartment in days. Harry said she didn't come down for work, for the shop, for nothing. He tried knocking on the door, but received no answers. Polly told him she'd leave baskets of food, but they were left untouched. John's youngest boys slipped pictures under her door, telling her they missed her. Arthur would knock on the door, begging to see her, yet he went ignored. Tommy had the hardest trouble. He met with the matriarch of the Lee clan, making a deal with the woman after some convincing. John would marry one of her nieces, and she would agree to help with Kimber. The Lees disliked Kimber as much as Tommy and he used that to his advantage. Even as he moved his business along, Rose stayed in the back of his mind. Late at night, he'd come to her door and wait. He wouldn't say a word to her, but she knew he was there. Sometimes he heard the shriek of a kettle; sometimes he heard weeping and screaming. Tommy remembered Rose and the thick red folder. He told her perhaps some things were best left in the dark.

Tommy stood in front of her door for the second week in a row. He understood a day or two. He understood even a week, but two? He worried for her. She barely ate. From the noises behind the door, she must not sleep much. She'd become a wreck, and he couldn't help her. Tommy went back to the night he spilled the secrets. He knew she'd react badly, but never thought it'd come to this. Who wouldn't after hearing such life-changing news? He remembered holding her the entire night, kissing and comforting her. Seeing the way she was now, he regretted telling her.

"Rosie," he called, knuckles rapping the door. "Rosie."

He heard no answer, and knocked again. "Rosie, I know you're in there, petal," he called her, "Please, open the door." Still nothing. "Well, if you won't see me, then just listen. John's getting married…to a Lee girl. The wedding is tomorrow afternoon. Ada will be there, and she'll want to see you. I'm sure John will appreciate you coming too." No response. Tommy paused, and then said, "And I want to see you. So, just wash up and come to the campground tomorrow. Polly and Ada will come get you."

She didn't answer him. There was nothing but stillness behind the door. Tommy wasn't sure what he'd expected. Rose hadn't come to the door in ages. He then felt for the key in his jacket pocket. He considered using it. He'd prefer Rose open the door herself, but he had no real choice.

Richard hadn't been happy when he learned Tommy told her the news. He said the family planned on breaking the news to her themselves. They said it would've gone smoother if they told her. He'd come to the shop a day or so ago, confronting him and asking how he could trust Tommy.

' _How could I trust a man who abandons his family?'_ Tommy had asked. This left Richard speechless a moment. The hostility eventually left him, and nothing but sadness remained.

' _We love her, you know? Prudence kept all her baby things. She wouldn't dare part with them.'_

Richard guessed Rose would have found out eventually. By how things went the day she confronted them, he knew it'd take her a very long time to forgive them. In the end, he was glad Tommy told her. Tommy asked him what was in the folder; it seemed quite thick for just police reports. Richard explained it wasn't just police and coroner's reports. They'd stuck pictures and things that belonged to Nancy.

' _She liked writing poetry,'_ he said. _'We kept some of her poems.'_

She'd stopped writing when she married Eddie. They didn't know why. Tommy told him Rose loved books and she was good with numbers and business. Richard was comforted by this. He said Westons always had a head for business; it's what made them successful. Tommy refrained from mentioning that he'd told Rose he loved her. Tommy kept the confession a secret for the time being. It was too soon to announce, especially with John's wedding on the way. If he told everyone, he'd never hear the end of it.

Tommy pulled the key out of his pocket. "Rose, I'm coming in," he said, and slid the key into the lock.

Carefully, he creaked open the door. He half expected she'd rush towards the door and slam it shut on him. Instead, he was met with pure silence. Opening it all the way, he found the room in near darkness. The only light came from the street lamps outside, giving the room a faint glow. He noticed the unwashed dishes piling up in the sink, the cold kettle on the stove, and a lump in her bed. A majority of the room looked as though it hadn't been touched in days. Her laundry hamper was only half-full. He knew she hadn't cleaned because he saw the dirty fireplace and light dust on the furniture. Tommy picked up Polly's food basket and set it on the small dining table. He then stepped on something.

Three women sat around a white table with a garden behind them; one held a baby boy and the other held a baby girl. He spotted Prudence and Charlotte right away, but the third he only knew from another photograph he'd seen. Tommy guessed the baby in the woman's lap was Rose; the baby boy must be one of her cousins. They looked so happy. They looked so elegant. He then found another picture, and then another, and then another. He found a death certificate, a coroner's report, and a police report on Edward Jameson. Tommy came across poetry written on floral stationary. All of them signed at the bottom by 'Nancy W.' with one of them signed by 'Fancy Nancy and Lady Lottie'.

He looked towards the bed and saw Rose staring at him. Wrapped up in her covers, she said nothing when he came to her. He placed the papers on the bedside table, and kissed the top of her head. Her hair was a tangled mess, and her eyes were puffy. Musky and slightly greasy, he could tell she hadn't bathed in a while.

"John's getting married?" she asked in the smallest voice.

"He is," he answered.

"To who?"

"A Lee girl," he said. "Esme, I think is her name."

"Is she nice?"

"No clue."

"Is she pretty?"

"I haven't seen her," he replied.

"I hope she is," Rose said. "John deserves a nice, pretty girl."

"He does." They sat in silence for a while, and then he said, "Polly's been leaving you food. She even got you ginger tea. I brought it in for you."

"How did you get in here?" she asked.

"I had a key," he patted his jacket pocket. "I had it in case something happened to you."

"Oh…"

He touched her hair, feeling the matted locks comb through his fingers. "You need to get up, petal. You need to eat, bathe; maybe get some fresh air."

Rose merely rolled over so her back was to him. His heart sank. "Rosie, please," he said. When she didn't move, he got up from the bed.

He didn't know what to do. Most of the people he knew drowned their sorrows in drink or lit it up with the pipe. None of them ever did this. He couldn't be his usual 'get-off-your-arse' self with her. No. Rose needed a gentler push. Tommy cleared out the fireplace and added fresh logs to the fire. Kindling some flames, he knew the fire would drive out the cold draft. He had no real idea what he was doing. He'd done this on occasion for Arthur, but that usually involved talking him out of hanging himself or taking the bottle from him. Tommy supposed Rose should eat and bathe at the very least. He rifled through the basket of food and found Polly's beef stew at the bottom. Tommy let Rose lie there as he heated the food for her. While it simmered, he started a warm bath. He wouldn't let her wallow in sadness this way. Polly told him he should leave her be until she was better, but Tommy couldn't allow that. She needed to be better. He needed her to be better.

When the bath was ready, Tommy lifted Rose out of her bed. She didn't struggle or argue with him. He pulled off her nightdress and removed her small clothes. Any other time, Tommy would be in awe of Rose's beautiful body. He'd kiss every scar and admire every curve. The room would be filled with his whispered 'I love you's and her gasping his name. Tonight wasn't the time. He'd save that for another time. Rose did not shy away from him like she'd done the last time he undressed her. She didn't blush or giggle. Instead, she stared into nothingness, lost in her own thoughts. She wasn't with him right then. He kissed her cheek, telling her to come back to him as he untangled her messy braid. She barely acknowledged him.

He helped her into the tub. He ran water through her hair and wet her front. Tommy listened to her quietly weep, seeing her shoulders shake with every sob. He ran a sweet smelling soap through her hair, rinsing and repeating a few times (from what he remembered Polly and Ada talking about one day). He then gently washed the rest of her. Rose barely noticed, only squirming when his hand reached between her legs, but even then she had no energy to fight him. Tommy almost wished he hadn't bathed her. Everywhere he looked, he found scars. Cigarette burns and cuts dotted her skin, but some stood out to him. He didn't dare imagine how they had gotten there.

Tommy dried her. He dressed her in fresh clothes. He fed her. He did all the things he thought he should do for her. She didn't speak. She only cried or gazed away from him. He didn't know how to comfort her. He wanted to so badly. He missed her smile and her laugh. He missed kissing her. Tommy put her back into bed, and slid in with her. The only sign she gave him was instantly curling to his side, her head on his chest.

Tommy normally had trouble sleeping. Images of a dark tunnel, Danny screaming in pain as a knife ran through him, Freddie taking a bullet for him, Tommy and Freddie fighting and killing them with their bare hands all tormented his dreams. Lately, his dreams became increasingly worse. Muffled sobbing would mingle with Danny's screams, the sound of the bullet became more like a punch in the gut, and he'd see Rose at the center of it all. When he tried going down the tunnel to help her, an arm rung around her neck and drag her into the darkness. Tommy shouted her name as he crawled after her, but all he'd hear is her terrified shrieks.

He buried his face in her wet hair, his fingers tangled at the ends. Tommy held her close to him. She hummed in satisfaction.

The next morning, he woke up to the sound of running water. Opening his eyes, he saw Polly washing dishes and putting them aside to dry. He could smell cinnamon in the air, which made him guess she'd made oatmeal. Rose was fast asleep on his chest still, her arm draped across his stomach. Tommy kissed the top of her head and untangled himself from her.

"Pol?" he said, stretching and sitting up.

"Morning," she said, not looking at him. "I found the door open, so I took the opportunity to clean the place up."

Tommy noticed the mess from last night disappeared. He rested against the pillows and looked about the room. "So I see," he said. He saw a few pictures frames sitting on the dresser around a vase of fresh cut flowers. "You found the pictures, then?"

"I did," she said, shaking the watery soap off her hands and then wiping them with a dishtowel. "I made her some breakfast and brought fresh bread. John got some frames from the house, and Arthur put up fresh flowers." Polly looked at the sleeping girl and frowned, "They shouldn't have kept it from her."

"No, they shouldn't have," Tommy pulled out a cigarette and struck a match to light it. Puffing out smoke, he looked over at Polly, "She's been a mess, Pol. I didn't know what to do when I came in here. It hit her hard."

"You'd be the same way if you found out everything you believed was a lie," she said. "She didn't know how to react, so she went into shock. You should have seen some of those pictures, Thomas. They're horrible. Pictures of her mother's condition, pictures of the crime scene…no wonder she's this way."

"They should have looked harder," Tommy said. "They all knew what a monster he was, but did nothing to stop him. They left it up to her mother. If it'd been me, I would've killed the bastard and chucked him into the cut. I would never have given up searching like they did." He would've spent his whole life searching if needed.

"I know," Polly said. "You go home and wash up," she then said, "You have to go get John and the boys."

"Arthur can take him there," he said. "I'll stay with Ros-"

"-I'll stay with her," Polly cut in. "You have business."

Business, the monster that loomed in his mind constantly, brought him back to reality. He had to tell John about meeting the Lees. He couldn't say they were marrying him off, otherwise he won't come. First, the matriarch would have to agree to John, though he was sure she would. Tommy looked down at Rose. "Don't force her to come," he told Polly as he stood from the bed and pulled up his suspenders. "She'll go to the wedding if she wants to."

"I'll put out a dress for her," Polly said.

Tommy nodded, grabbing his jacket. He kissed Rose's forehead just when she began to stir from sleep and walked out of the door.

* * *

The oatmeal tasted like cinnamon, and the diced apples gave it a hint of sweetness. Rose hadn't felt like eating when Polly woke her up, but she did it out of courtesy. Standing in front of the dresser in her nightdress, holding her bowl of oatmeal, she stared at the pictures. Her heart shattered every time she saw her mother's happy face. Try as she might, she couldn't envision a happy woman. Visions of her bashed nose and lips, the dried blood caked around the deep fracture in her skull and the dazed look in her eyes haunted her in her sleep. The woman in the pictures and the woman in the photograph looked very different. Rose tried remembering what she could, but it was only fragments. In her dreams, her mother came to her crystal clear.

She caught herself in the mirror. Tommy washed and combed her hair last night, and she'd left it drying while she'd eaten. He put her in one of the older nightgowns, but she hadn't minded. He meant well. She supposed she should feel special. She imagined he didn't put that much care or time into one person. Tommy didn't seem like the type of care about anyone other than his family. She continued silently eating her oatmeal.

"John's getting married today," Polly told her as she looked through Rose's limited dress options.

"I know," she said.

"You should come," she continued, examining her frilly pale pink dress and the yellow one with white trimming.

"I don't want to go." Rose preferred the confines of her apartment for the time being. She only had enough energy and mind for the small space.

"Ada will be there," she said. "She'd love to see you after being kept in that basement for so long."

"If she wanted to see me, she could've just come by," Rose said, taking another spoonful of oatmeal. She crunched down on the apple and savored the cinnamon. "Then again, wouldn't be the first time someone abandoned me for their own selfish reasons."

"You know that's not true, Rose," she put both dresses on the bed. "Ada and Freddie-"

"-Went into hiding because of Big Bad Tommy, right?" she said. "I don't get why Freddie's afraid of him. The two of them almost killed each other; you'd think he wouldn't be holed up in a basement like a rat. He'd be out fighting."

"Freddie isn't hiding from Tommy. He's hiding from the police," she said.

"Tommy seems damn certain they're never seen from anyone," Rose said.

Polly sighed, "Ada would still like to see you. So would John, and Arthur, and Finn and everyone else."

"John doesn't even know he's getting married, does he?"

"No, he doesn't," Polly said. "He wouldn't go if he knew he was marrying a Lee girl."

"That's a hell of a surprise," Rose snorted. "Tommy picked her, I'm guessing?"

"He did." Polly looked closer at the pink dress, "Pink looks nice on you. I'd pick this one."

"I guess." She didn't care for dresses. She didn't care for anything. She set down the bowl and looked around the room. Glancing around for the folder, she couldn't see it right away. "Where's the folder?"

"I burned it," Polly said.

"What?! Why?!"

"Because Rose, you would've driven yourself mad with those pictures and papers lying about. Look at the state of you now! I thought it was best if I got rid of them."

Rose wanted to scream and shout. She wanted to throw the bowl across the room. Instead, she only stared at Polly teary eyed. "B-B-But her poetry…Her letters…" Rose said, already feeling tight in her chest, "They were all I had of her now. Why would you-How could you-"

"I put them here," she opened the top drawer where she saw a small stack of folded papers. "I knew how much they meant to you."

Rose breathed a sigh of relief. She picked up one of the papers and sniffed it. Her mother dabbed perfume on the edges. Rose could still smell the tiniest hint on the old stationary.

"Rosie," Polly said gently, "You can't dwell on this forever. I know this isn't easy to forget, and you'll never get over it, but you can't let it stunt your life. You have to live, Rose. I'm sure that's what your mother wanted for you."

"How would you know?" she said, looking over the cursive letters on the page. Nancy did her G's just the way Rose did, and she always signed her name with a heart at the end.

"Because that's what I wanted for my daughter when they took her away." Rose tore her eyes from the paper and looked at her quizzically. "She was only a little girl when they took her and her brother away from me. I know I wouldn't want her sulking away in her room. I'd want her living her life. Rosie, you have a man that loves you and people that care about you. You won't get over this in a day; maybe not even for the rest of your life. But, the first step is learning to get past it. You can't let yourself drown in it or it'll consume you." She kissed her cheek, and picked up her purse. "I'll go get Ada and come back for you. We can all go together."

' _You have a man that loves you…'_

Polly left her alone in the room. Now, only the smiling faces in her pictures gazed at her. She went to the fireplace and found Polly's words true. Bits of singed paper sat among the ashes, and the warped photographs melted to pieces. She supposed they were best left that way. Rose spent hours upon hours staring at the horrific pictures and reading the details of the autopsy and the police report. She sometimes cried reading the details of her father's abuse, and how extensive it'd been on her mother. Rose wondered how she could have ignored it. She tried reasoning that she'd only been a child, and knew nothing of such horrors. Yet, that didn't seem like a good enough excuse.

' _You have a man that loves you.'_

Tommy did love her. He said so himself. Rose tried basking in that love, but found herself removed from it. A lot of his actions last night were a million miles from her. Tommy helped her anyways, trying his best to care for her. That's what people did when they loved each other, right? They tried? She remembered crying and Tommy merely accepting it. He'd touched her in places she shouldn't have let him, but he never took it anywhere. He ran his hands through her hair soothingly. He kissed her as she'd fallen asleep. Tommy loved her, and she didn't know how to love him back. She'd been so enamored with him before, but now she had him, and didn't know what to do.

Rose stood up from the fireplace and looked at the dresses on her bed. She thought about John's wedding. She'd never attended a wedding, so she didn't know what she'd expect. Surely, they would have a ceremony and then some sort of celebration afterwards. Rose wasn't sure she could handle so many people at one time. She touched the soft pink fabric of the first dress, examining its many layers and neckline. She had a matching coat somewhere in the closet, and a hat too. Ladies wore hats, didn't they?

She sighed and pulled off her nightdress.


	23. Chapter 23

Rose walked through the encampment with Ada and Polly. Ada's belly swelled quickly in the time she and Rose were apart. Rose felt guilty not being there for Ada. She'd only visited the girl in her basement home a few times before she and Freddie moved again. She hated thinking of Ada struggling through her pregnancy alone. Ada's face lit up seeing Rose in a pink dress and fleece embroidered shawl. She hugged her tightly, giggling and smiling broadly. Rose hugged her back, but felt almost nothing. She was glad to see Ada so well despite her living circumstances, yet she could only bring out a wide smile. Rose assumed Polly told her what had happened over the past two weeks. She pulled away from her, staring at her.

"Fuck 'em, Rosie," Ada said. "They've never done anything for you, so fuck 'em."

She was right. As kind as the Westons were (or pretended), they'd never done anything for her. They'd made her feel included. They'd given her a second family, but in truth, they never lifted a finger to help her. No one did. She spent all her time helping others, but nobody returned the favor. She went from being her father's slave, to being Tommy's, to being the Westons. She hated it. She hated people using her. She was done with it. So many times, she considered packing her suitcase and leaving. None of them really needed her. She thought about going home, but then Polly touched her shoulder.

"Come on," she said, "The wedding's already started."

Rose didn't know why she'd come. At first, she thought some fresh air might be good for her; a bit of sun never killed anyone. Yet, the longer she stayed outside, the more she regretted it. She'd only been out an hour or so and already she felt tired. They came to the wedding party. Everyone stood in silence as a man-she assumed was Johnny Doggs- oversaw the marriage. Rose caught wind of his words as the married couple knelt before him. She couldn't see the bride's face, but she figured John was satisfied with her. She saw a few familiar faces in the crowd, though most of them she didn't know at all. They all seemed so happy. She wished she could share their sentiment. She recognized Tommy right away from his broad shoulders and black coat. She wouldn't go to him. Why should she? She was tired of always being at someone's side. She wanted to be alone.

"…And now we do the uniting to the two bloods," Johnny said, cutting both John's palm and Esme's. All Rose could think of was how impractical that was. It could seriously damage their hands.

"He was worried about you," Polly said quietly. "He didn't show it very much, but I could tell."

"He's never been very good at showing his emotions, has he?"

"After France, no he isn't," she said. "I think it's difficult for him to adjust to regular life again after being stuck in trenches and tunnels for five years. In war, you have to be a man. You have to be made of stone and steel. An artillery shell at the disposal of the British government. I think it stuck with him." She listened in on the ceremony, and then said, "But you've opened him up, just like he did for you."

The crowd broke out into applause as Esme and John kissed. He seemed happy, and she supposed that was good, but she couldn't share the sentiment. Rose looked back over at Tommy. He was talking with Ada and beginning to move with the group. Rose supposed they would head on over for a feast before the drinking and dancing began. She took a seat at a long bench beside Polly. The older woman placed food on her plate, but Rose shuffled it around and picked at it. She had no appetite. Nobody really took notice, and she was glad. She missed being invisible.

"You have to eat something, Rose," Ada told her.

"I'm not hungry."

"Rose, please," Polly said.

"I'm _not hungry,"_ she repeated. She regretted coming now. She could see eyes starting to flick towards her, but thank God the feast ended towards night fall and the music started playing.

The night grew colder, so she wrapped her shawl a little tighter around her arms. Rose watched the Lee men begin lighting a bonfire in the middle of the camp, and drinks starting to move about the party. She saw Ada start drinking, laughing and dancing to the happy tunes. She saw Arthur and John start a drinking competition with some of the Lee brothers, being cheered on by Peaky Blinders members. Everyone seemed so merry, but she couldn't join in. Once again, Rose felt out of place in this happy setting. She took up a glass of wine someone poured for her and drank. She didn't enjoy the taste, but then again you don't drink wine for the taste.

As the night dragged on, Rose drank more and more. Her head began swimming, and she sat down at one of the tables. She always wondered why her father drank so much. It appeared almost bad for one's mind to have so much. Yet, as she poured herself another glass, she began to understand. The violet red drink made everything disappear. Maybe it brought everything back. She didn't know for sure.

"You're a beauty," a gruff voice said above her. She saw a figure standing over her. He was one of the Lee brothers; the one who had a piece of his ear cut off. He grinned at her. She ignored him. "How about you have a dance with me, eh? A pretty girl like you shouldn't sit alone."

"No, thank you," she said, taking another gulp of wine.

"Aw, come on now. Just one little dance?" He reached for her hand, but she pulled away. "You know, it ain't nice to refuse a dance. Some would say it's impolite."

"Yeah? Well, this is me not caring," she replied.

"A little dance might cheer you up." He gripped her arm and made her stand up.

"Get off me!" she said. She didn't know whether it was her own rage, her sadness or the drink that led her to it. One moment she yanked herself out of his grasp, another moment her fist went flying into his face. The people around her stopped their merriment and looked at the scene. Rose, for once, didn't care. "I'm sick of men acting as if they can do what they want with me! Like they own me! The next man who fucking touches me is getting a bottle in his throat!"

She threw her glass down on the ground and walked away. She heard people calling her name, but she ignored them. She hated them. Rose hated being a toy people could use. She remembered every single time someone convinced her to help them. She used to like it. Now she hated it. Rage festered inside her like a wound she couldn't heal. No matter what she did, she found herself steaming. Rose plopped down in the field, sitting amongst the tall grass and playing with the end of her shawl. There were no lights to block out the stars. The moon shined bright, waning only halfway tonight. She thought of all those times she would stand on the broken desk and look out the basement window. From where the window was, she saw the stars dotted along the sky like rhinestones and the moon acting as a jewel in the corner of it all. She imagined her mother was there among those stars. There, she'd twinkle and glitter just as bright.

"Oi! What you doing way out here, eh?"

She looked over her shoulder and saw John walking towards her. The groom, in his grey suit and usual toothpick in his mouth, took a seat beside her on the ground. "Thinking," she answered.

"'Thinking'? I think you would've had your fill of thinking from all that time you spent in your flat," he said.

"Perhaps that's not enough."

He watched the stars with her, not saying anything or interrupting her. Then he said, "You know, when Martha died, I did the same thing."

"What thing?"

"Locked myself up in my room," he said. "I didn't care about anything anymore. I didn't want to be in a world that Martha wasn't in. Everything just seemed…empty without her; greyer and darker. I hardly ate; I hardly slept anything. I would just sort of lay there and, you know, fucking torture myself."

She knew where this was going. "Was she bludgeoned to death and then put in a box as if she'd never been important to anyone?"

"No, worse," he said. "I watched her fucking die." When Rose looked over at him, "You see, your mum was quick. You were little, so you didn't see it. I-I had to watch my wife, the love of my life, die in front of me. I fed her soup, I helped her change, I bathed her," he took a breath, "I thought if I just hung in there and kept taking care of her, then she'd be alright. She'd get better. Instead, she only got fucking worse." he sniffled and kept going, "When I met her, she was this slim, healthy woman. When she died, she was shriveled and pale. She wasn't coming back. I couldn't make her fucking come back. I ignored everything: my kids, the gang, my family. Nothing made me feel better. I start drinking more. I would get pissed every night just because it helped me sleep. Then Polly came to see me.

"She told me she'd had enough of this nonsense and that I was gonna take care of my kids, go back to the shop and move on with life. I told her-I told her there wasn't any point. Martha was gone. She then said that sometimes God takes the best of us first. Then I says, 'why did he have to take Martha? I loved her and now she's gone'. She says, 'Because maybe you weren't meant to be with Martha forever. Maybe God's got other plans for you'. Now, I don't really believe in all that stuff; I was nine the last time I stepped foot in a church. But, it got me up. I got me going again, because if God did got something bigger for me, I wanted to be around to see it."

"What's your point, John?"

"My point is that maybe you went through the shit you went through because you were supposed to," he said. "You were fine as all hell before those fancy fuckers came along. You were this resourceful, smart person; then you met them, and suddenly your life wasn't good enough anymore."

"I don't know what you're talking ab-"

"-Yeah you do," he said firmly. "You dropped everything you know for those people. You stopped working at The Garrison in the mornings; you stopped caring about us. Everything was always about them. 'Charlotte's done this…' and 'Richard's done that…' you know, it's like you knew they was family before they said anything."

"My father was beating my mother, and they knew about and didn't do anything," she said. "They sat around and waited for her to make the first move. Just like they did with me. They probably got sick of looking for me, so they left me to rot with him. You want to know what they said when I asked them why they stopped looking? Hm? Do you know what they said?"

"What they say?"

"They said they thought I was dead. Now, if the same thing had happened to Martha, would you have just given up and thought the same thing?"

He shook his head, "No. Never."

"Well, that's what they did. That's what everyone in my life does," she said. "They give up on me because I'm not strong or brilliant. I'm not mean enough. I'm too nice and too sweet for them. I'm weak."

"You're not fucking weak," he said. "You never were." He took her wrist and slipped her bracelet up, "Do these look like the scars of a weak person? If you was weak, you would've let him keep you down. You would've stayed in his house until he died. You didn't. You were smart enough, clever enough to fucking get out of there and never look back. Yeah, what he did to your mum wasn't right; the things he did to you weren't right, but you survived. You lived. You're here with us now." He then said, "You're not mean enough? You're too nice and too sweet? You know something? Before you came along, there was nothing good about this place. We were all thugs and robbers and fighters. There's nobody somebody could turn to for help because everybody's only out for themselves. You aren't like that. From the start, you've helped people who needed somebody. You cared about other people."

"Yeah, it only proves how stupid I am," she said.

"Nobody's fucking perfect," he told her. "You make bad choices sometimes. You don't always make the brightest decision. So what? That only makes you human. Nobody expects you to be perfect. Everyone always tells me I'm the thickest one, but I don't care. I know I'm not dim." He scooted closer to her, "You're only human. There ain't nothing wrong with that."

"Hey!" another voice came out from behind them, "John Boy! I'm surprised at you! You only been married for a few hours and you're already flirting with another woman." Arthur, stinking of beer and wine, sat on the ground on Rose's other side. "And I heard that our Rosie knocked Erasmus Lee onto his back with her little fist," he patted her back."

"He deserved it," she said. "I said 'no thank you' and he didn't listen."

Arthur chortled, "And he ain't gonna ask anymore after tonight!"

"See? You're becoming more like us every day," John grinned.

Arthur took a swig from his wine bottle, and passed it to Rose. "Here," he said, "This will put a smile on you."

John chuckled, looking behind them, "Nah, I know something that's gonna make her smile even more."

"Huh?"

The three of them turned around and saw Tommy coming their way. Broad chest, shoulders back, he walked as if he owned everything in the field. He didn't smile down at Rose or his brothers. He merely nodded his head.

"I think we should leave these lovebirds alone, eh John Boy?" Arthur asked, attempting to stand but failing.

"I think so," John smirked teasingly. He stood up and helped Arthur to his feet. "Let's get you back to the party. I got a wife to dance with."

"And I got more beer to drink!" Arthur laughed as John escorted him away.

Tommy patted John's shoulder as the pair walked away from them. Rose looked at Tommy. Tommy looked down at Rose. She didn't know what to say to him. He'd been so kind and so caring, and she repaid him poorly. She couldn't understand why he still bothered with her after how she'd behaved.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I've been an idiot."

"Yeah," he said, "You have."

"I shouldn't have been so surprised he did something like that."

"No, you shouldn't have."

"I shouldn't have pushed you away when you were so attentive. I should've thanked you."

"Yeah, you should have," he said.

"You never do those things for anyone."

"I do them for you," he said. "You have to know that."

"I know," she lowered her head, picking at the grass under her. "I'm sorry, Tommy."

He walked over to her, and brought her between his legs. Wrapping her in his arms, he shielded her from the breeze blowing past them. Tommy said nothing as he kissed her cheek, then her jaw, and then her neck. He held her cheek like he always did, and brought her lips to his. She'd forgotten what his lips felt like; she was kissing him all over again.

He pulled away and said, "If you don't feel the same way, I understand. I won't make you. Just say the word, and I'll leave."

She shook her head, "No, Tommy. I don't want you to leave."

She looked into his eyes. She decided blue was now her favorite color. Tommy kissed her again. They became one right there under the stars. Rose realized she never wanted to be away from him. Even if love was hard to come by for her, she wanted him with her always. She kissed him deeply, crawling into his lap and letting him hold her close. Her hands found the long ends of his hair, gripping them gently. He then rolled them over so she lied on her back and her legs were around his waist. The smell of Tommy's cigarettes and the earth beneath her made a scent she never wanted to forget.

"You know," he said, breaking away from her, "When I took care of you, I saw you naked."

She blushed, remembering it well. She thought of his hands scrubbing her down and running through her wet hair. "I know you did," she said, "And?"

"And," he pecked her lips a few times, "You were exactly how I thought you'd be."

They kissed again. His hands left her waist and traveled down her thighs, lifting up her skirt and touching her garter belts. Rose gasped, and this only encouraged him more. His lips left hers and traveled to her neck, where she felt him suck at the delicate skin.

"Do you want me to stop?" he whispered in her ear, his breath creeping on her neck.

She shook her head, "No. Please don't."

He continued kissing and grabbing her. "Rosie! Rosie!" a voice called in the distance, which made Tommy growl against her skin. "Tommy! Rosie!"

Finn came running towards them, panting and out of breath when he reached them. Tommy looked up at him, annoyed, "What is it Finn?"

"Ada's having her baby! You have to come quick!"

They all ran back over to the campsite where they heard painful groans cutting through the crowd. They both looked towards the crowd to see Ada hunched over, holding on to Polly as she clutched her stomach. Rose gasped, leaving Tommy behind as she came to Ada's side.

"Water!" Polly said. Rose saw the puddle at Ada's feet and dripping down her leg. "We have to get her home. Rosie, help me."

Rose took one of Ada's arms over her shoulder, while Polly held the other. The rest of the family made their way towards the cars, Ada crying and screaming the whole way. Rose and Tommy forgot their conversation as Rose helped Ada into the backseat of a car. She had never helped deliver a baby before, but she'd help.

 _'_ _You're helping again…'_ a voice said in her head as Ada grasped her hand for support. Tommy's car bumping along the road as fast as it went. _'Stupid girl. You're so weak. It's why they walk all over you,'_ the voice sounded like Him. She shook it out of her head. She wouldn't let Him ruin everything for her. She wasn't his anymore. She thought about John and his kinds words; she thought about Tommy's loving hands and kisses. There was nothing wrong with her. Nothing at all.

"It's okay, Ada," she said. "You're going to be okay. You just have to keep that baby in there a little while long."

They reached the house in time. Polly and Esme walked Ada into the house. Polly already called for hot water and towels, which Esme immediately fetched for them. Rose stood in the doorway, hearing Ada's cries and pants as she walked away into the lounge area. She'd never been present for a birth before. Today was becoming a day of firsts.

Tommy and the other men made to leave now that Ada was home. "Tommy," she called after him. He faced her, a glimmer of lust still in his eyes. "Where you off to?" she asked.

"Not much else us men can do now," he answered.

"There is one person who should be here though."

Tommy sighed in disappointment. "You're right, Rose. Freddie should be here," he said instead, "The truce lasts until sunrise."

Rose nodded, and ran to tell Ada.

* * *

"He's beautiful, Ada," Rose said, sitting beside her.

Ada, sweaty and red-faced, cradled her son in her arms. Wrapped up in a baby blanket, Karl Thorne was half asleep, his blue eyes drooping from tiredness. Rose smiled at him. Warmth spread through her that took away everything. She suddenly forgot about the Westons and all her pain. She focused on the little boy in front of her. She needed a distraction, and Karl came just in time for that. She'd helped bring him into the world without having a single clue what to really do. Ada smiled at her son, rocking him in her rocking chair.

"Where's Freddie?" Ada asked her.

"He should be on his way," Rose told her. "He'll be here, Ada. Don't worry."

"And you and Tommy?"

Rose paused, "What do you mean? What about us?"

"I saw him go after you after you hit Erasmus Lee," she said, "And then I saw you two coming back just as, well, you know who came," she rocked her son in her arms. "What happened?"

"We just talked," she said. She wasn't the type to kiss-and-tell.

"Talked about what?"

"About things, Ada."

"What things?" she asked.

"Just things, Ada," Rose replied. "It's not important right now. What's important is getting your energy back up. Polly's bringing you some tea."

"I don't want tea," she said. "I want to know why you've been a selfish, spoiled brat these past two weeks."

Everyone in the room stopped. Rose gulped, unsure how to answer. "I-I-I don't know-"

"-Look, I know what you went through with those snotty, rich fuckers was terrible and you know my heart goes out to you," Ada said, "But Tommy's done nothing but care for you and you push him away. He loved you, you bloody idiot. He cares about you. My brother hasn't cared for anyone in a long time. He was this cold-hearted, distant person, and when you came, it's like this whole new side of him comes out when he's around you-"

"-Ada, it's a little harder than that. I just want to be-"

"-Yeah, I know, I know, 'be your own person' and shit like that. Well, you can be your own person and still love someone. You love my brother. He loves you. Why the fuck is it so difficult for you two to act like normal people?"

"Because we're not normal, Ada!" Rose said. "Ada," she took in a breath, "This isn't the time to talk about this. You just had your baby, and Freddie will be here-"

"-Don't change the subject!" Ada said.

"She's right, Ada," Polly came over with her tea, "We can save this talk for another time."

"No, I want to talk about it now," Ada said.

"You'll wake up Karl," Rose reasoned.

"You've been moping and crying in your room for the past two weeks; not seeing or talking to any of the people who care about you. Damnit, Rosie! You've done so much for this family. More than you could ever know," she said, "You've been nothing but kind to us and you didn't even know us. All we want to do is return it."

"I…I know, Ada-"

"-No you fucking don't, otherwise you'd stop being such a fucking baby! Those Weston pricks never did anything for you, and they probably never will." She grabbed Rose's hand, pulling her close. Rose saw tears in her eyes, the ones that were similar to Arthur's. "We love you, Rose. It's not just Tommy that loves you. We all do. If I could choose anyone to be my sister, it'd be you. I love you, you stupid bitch." She looked over at Esme, "Esme, you're part of this family now, so you should know: Rose Wick is one of us. Whether she works at The Garrison or here in the shop, she's one of us. She's the best person I know, and I love her to fucking death."

"I believe it," Esme grinned.

Ada looked to Rose, "You are one of us. We care about you. We're your family, not them. We want to be here for you, but you have to let us in first. We fucking love you. You understand? We. Love. You."

"It isn't just the men who love you," Polly said. She took a seat on the arm of Rose's chair, taking one of her hands in her own. She said so much with such few words.

Rose looked between them. These two women made her feel more welcome than anyone else. She thought back to Charlotte and Prudence. She was sure they meant well, but they had never done anything for her. In fact, it'd been the other way around. She'd gone running to them in hopes their family would accept her. They'd gladly taken her under their wing, and made her feel welcome, but they never did anything. They only gave comforting words. They knew where she lived. They knew she had a meager position. If they'd cared, they would have been the ones fixing her apartment.

Instead, it'd been the Shelby's. It'd been Tommy. Ada gave her new clothes. Polly taught her how to use make-up. John made her smile on bad days with his cheek kisses. Arthur always made her laugh with his raunchy jokes and funny stories. Even little Finn made her feel special, because he never hugged anyone but family. She thought the Westons made her feel welcome. She'd been wrong. It'd been the people sitting in front of her. She felt so stupid.

 _'_ _Cause you're a stupid child, that's why!'_ His voice said.

Ada and Polly did more for her than Charlotte or Prudence. Even the boys did more for her, especially Tommy. They took her in when she had nobody; the Westons only took her in when they realized who she was.

"I love you too," she said.


	24. Chapter 24

She didn't go to the shelter that morning. She didn't visit the shop either. Rose stayed in The Garrison with Harry. Working through the morning, she realized that missed the old pub. She missed washing out beer pails and the mugs, pouring beers from the tap, serving straight gins and whiskeys and rums instead of the prissy mixes, and most importantly Harry. She'd felt guilty for abandoning him and the bar. His spirit seemed lifted by her presence. He joked, talked, and smiled more. She carried beer pails to tables with mugs, and she took care of the spit buckets for him. She even swept between the morning and afternoon shifts.

"I missed having you around, Rosie," he said as he pulled at the beer tap. "It's admirable working in the soup kitchen, but…"

"But you liked me being here," she finished for him as she served a pair of whiskeys.

He passed a beer over the table, and then faced her. He grinned at her, "I missed ya, girl."

"I missed you too, Harry."

The two of them switched sides of the bar. She would give him money for the till. He'd pass her bottles or glasses in perfect slides across the bar. It wasn't like the soup kitchen where there was nothing but pity. She didn't slave away in front of steamy trays of food and listen to the gossiping twins. Working in the pub didn't seem like a job. She moved through everything like clockwork. She belonged in The Garrison. She lived above it. She worked in it every day. Regulars even called her by name, smiling at the sight of her. Harry said she made them all feel welcome, plus it gave them something pretty to look at. She didn't even mind their leering. Everything felt natural to her. It felt like home.

Tommy walked in sometime during the afternoon shift. He placed his cap on the bar and didn't say anything. She gave him the whiskey he always asked for, but something felt off. He said nothing to her. He barely acknowledged her. She thought after John's wedding, he'd at least speak to her. Freddie had been told by a comrade of his to stay away from the house because they were being watched. Rose assumed the police watched out for Freddie, but left sourly disappointed. He came later in the night, awing at his newborn son. However, when Tommy returned, the words and accusations flew before Freddie and Ada left. Polly hadn't been pleased. Frankly, Rose wasn't either. She wiped down the drops from the bar in front of him so he could talk to her.

"What's wrong?" she asked. He didn't answer her. He only knocked back another whiskey. "Tommy…" He walked away from her and to the private room. "I'll be back, Harry," she said. She followed Tommy, seeing his frustration grow within him. "Tommy, please talk to me. What's bothering you?"

"Your oh-so-generous family pulled us," he said, putting a cigarette between his lips. "They fucking pulled us out. They pulled out our pitches. They brought back in Kimber. They broke the fucking contract. Want to know what we got in return? Hm?"

"What?"

"Nothing," he said. "The rich fucker gave me his usual condescending tone, acting as if he's done us some sort of favor." She heard the anger in his voice. She watched him try and light a match, but he could barely focus on it. "Do you know what this fucking means?! It means I'm back at square one! Fucking square one! Back at the bottom of the fucking ladder!" He threw his box of matches across the room.

"Tommy, Tommy," She picked up a match and lit the cigarette still in his mouth for him. "Relax. Everyone in the bar will hear you."

"I don't fucking care!" he shouted. He inhaled from the end of the cigarette, and then blew out a long stream.

She took his free hand and held it between her own. "I'm sorry, Tommy. It's my fault they did what they did. If maybe I had been nicer, you would still have the pitches."

"No, don't you fucking say that," he said. "Those bastards don't deserve a single ounce of kindness from you." He blew out another puff of smoke, tipping off the ash on the end. "I had it. I had the pitches. I had Kimber right on the edge. It's like he's pushed me back and put me against the wall. Can you fucking believe that scum was there? His smug fucking face when the old man told me we weren't doing business anymore? I wanted to kill him right there. As if I don't have enough on my bloody plate with Campbell and Grace following me around everywhere, I have to worry about this too."

"Surely you told him that the security you set for him will get pulled back?" she asked. "Kimber's men will go back to letting the Lees attack his bookies, and I'm sure Kimber will have some sort of subtle retaliation for being pushed to the side. He must know it's not a good idea."

"He told me he was putting his own men on the payroll," he replied. "He did it to make me look bad with the men I hired. A lot of veterans lost their jobs; some couldn't get their factory jobs back either. It made me a very unpopular man overnight."

"Well, you can find something else for them."

"Like what?" he retorted.

"I don't know," she said, "Maybe they could work on the boats? Moving contraband takes a lot of men, and Charlie and Curly have told me they have trouble loading at night just the two of them."

"They did?" he said surprised. "When did they tell you that?"

"The day I met with Nigel for a smuggling contract. Charlie mentioned it, and Curly's back hurts him sometimes. I told him he should rest it for a bit. I mean, they care for your horses, they take care of loading shipments from one dock to another, stacking the boxes in the safe point, and then doing it all again a few days. They also have to dodge cops patrolling the proofing bays now because of the guns. Charlie said they could use a few good men and some muscle. They didn't tell you?"

He shook his head. "It seems he's forgotten whose boss."

"Anyways, they could use some more men. I'm sure that would get you on people's good sides again." She then said, "I suppose they pulled the smuggling boats too?"

"Yes, they did."

"I'm sorry, Tommy."

"Don't be."

"I am, anyways," she said. "You worked so hard for this, and it's gone. You wanted this so much. You were so close, but I know you'll think of something."

He then said, "Why weren't you in the shop today?"

She was reluctant to tell him. "I wanted to be here with Harry," she answered. "It's what I wanted to talk to you about."

He scoffed, "As if my day wasn't bad enough..."

"I abandoned Harry for you," she spat back. "I dropped everything for you. I dropped everything for the Westons. I'm not going to be someone else's work horse. You have Polly and John for the shop. The Westons have their billion family members. Harry was the first one to give me a job, and I'm not going to leave him just to sit around and write down numbers. I can do the books here, if you like, but that's it. I'll do them in my free time."

"And when do you get that?"

"In the early mornings," she said, "After the evening shift. Sometimes even during the night when I can't sleep." He didn't answer her again. He took another drink and passed the empty glass to her.

"At least there won't be happy faces in the zeros anymore."

Rose didn't frown or look away from him. She smiled at him. "Yes there will. I will be writing in the accounting books here. I can put more of them if you like."

He returned her look, "No."

She giggled. "Well I'll miss your scolding notes," she said kissing his cheek and taking his empty glass and standing, "Even though I never paid attention in the first place."

"No, you didn't," he called after her.

Rose refilled his glass for him, passing it through the window instead of walking into the room. She went back to work with ease. She worried for him as he left the pub. As if the Westons didn't give her more reasons to dislike them, a few hours later she spotted a familiar figure stand at the door. Richard Weston walked into the room with two large men flanking him. He stared about the room, watching it fall quiet before him. His eyes found Rose. She glared.

"Rose," he walked over to her, and looked over the bar, "So this is what you really do? You tend a bar?"

"Yes, I do," she said.

"And here I thought you had a position of importance," he replied.

"And here I thought I told you I wanted nothing to do with any of you."

He stiffened at her attitude. She didn't care. "Because you're my granddaughter, I'll forgive your rudeness. One scotch, please."

She poured him the scotch. "Why are you here?"

He drank half of the glass, and said, "I have something for you." The man clicked his fingers and one of the men passed him a white and pink lace book. "It's your baby book. Your grandmother kept a detailed book of you. Naturally, of course, she stopped when you turned three."

She huffed, "You even knew me when I was three. Shame I don't remember you." She passed the book across the bar to him, "I have no interest in what you people think of me anymore. You tortured me enough with your red file."

"You asked for it," he replied. "It isn't my fault you didn't like what you saw."

"You told me there were only reports in there," she said. "You never mentioned or removed the pictures the police took of her after the beating. You never took out the crime scene pictures either. Why would someone keep something like that? So you can convince yourself what happened to her wasn't your fault?"

"It wasn't-"

"-It was," she interrupted. "You all knew what was happening, sat there and pitied her, but did nothing to help. You saw all your convincing wasn't working, so you let her leave. If you'd loved her, you would've tired harder. Like with me. A real family doesn't give up on each other, but then again, my mother wasn't what you wanted her to be so she was expendable."

"I'm sorry?"

"I've thought about your extensive, successful family," she admitted. "All of your children live rich fabulous lives and have all these accomplishments, which they all credit to your love and support. Yet, at the end of the day, they're pawns for you. You couldn't climb the social ladder on your own, being from the underbelly like the rest of us, so you use your children."

"I certainly do not. My children chose their professions, just like you choose to work in this dingy little pub."

"This dingy little pub is my home. Not that showcase you call a house," she said. "You have one son in law enforcement, which means whenever you need someone out of jail or put in prison, you have him right there for you. Your other son runs your shipping yard and your boats, so you get all kinds of global connections; not to mention a brute to do your dirty work. Your daughter runs all your charity shelters so you look charitable, but you're a bunch of crooks. Also, she's popped out children of her own who are all in university, medical school or law school. Then there's my mother, who disappointed you by getting pregnant by a stable boy. I personally think it was payback for not letting her pursue her passion for poetry. She'd written so many beautiful things. She clearly loved it a lot, but no, she was forced to be a nurse."

"You know nothing about my family, little girl," he growled.

"Oh, did I hit a nerve, Mr. Weston?" Rose felt Harry's hand touch her arm, but she pulled away, staying in front of Richard. "I can only imagine the life you had mapped out for me. What would I have been? A lawyer? A doctor? A nurse? What?"

"A girl as pretty as you would've been an obedient housewife," he declared. "I told Nancy what a beautiful girl you will make when you grow up. I said we could arrange a marriage for you when you were older to an aristocrat or wealthy businessman. You would've been nice for Mr. Kimber; he would've liked a younger wife. He wanted Charlotte, but she's too smart for him. But looks like that hope has gone down the toilet," he finished his scotch, "Especially since you've paired yourself with a criminal like Thomas Shelby."

"A criminal you didn't mind using until a few hours ago," she replied.

"I reconsidered my contract with Mr. Shelby," he said. "He wasn't the businessman I hoped he'd be. Very, very disappointing for me. I thought we were one in the same, but I was wrong."

"Very wrong," she said. "Tommy actually holds up to his promises. He loves his family. He loves me. You don't. Get out of this bar and never come back. Take your stupid book with you. I have no need for it or anything else you want to give me."

The typical smile he always kept on turned into a stone-cold stare. "I'd always hoped we'd find you again, and that you'd want to join our family. You belong with us. You are half Weston. You could've been something remarkable; much more than a barmaid. Then again, I shouldn't have been surprised. You are Nancy's, and Nancy never listened to me either."

"Because she saw you for what you were," she challenged.

"All I'll tell you is don't get too comfortable with these Peaky Blinders," he said. "They might not be around much longer."

He took the baby book and walked out of the bar. Rose watched him leave, fire flaring inside her. Harry came to her side, rubbing her back, "I don't know what that was about, but you shouldn't have talked that way to him. Do you know who he is?"

"Yes," she said, "An old man with a bad knee."

She spent the rest of the day thinking….and thinking…and she suddenly had an idea.

* * *

Right after the afternoon shift she walked down Watery Lane to Polly's house. She knew Tommy would be there with her and his brothers, most likely discussing business. If he wasn't home, then she would simply wait. Polly never minded her company. Rose thought about her idea most of the day. She hoped Tommy at least took it into consideration before he turned it down completely. She might be entirely wrong; she might be truly as naive as she sounded. Tommy was brilliant and cunning, but he shouldn't handle things on his own.

Knocking on the door, she waited for an answer. When no one answered, she knocked again. On the third knock, the door became slightly ajar. Rose supposed walking in wouldn't be such a bad thing. If they weren't home, she could come back another time. Closing the door properly, she heard voices coming from the dining room. She spotted Tommy by the doorway of the room talking to someone she couldn't see. Boots shuffling across the floor, he didn't notice her until she was right behind him.

He looked over at her, "Rose? What are you doing here?"

"Hello to you too," she said, rounding him and standing in the doorway with him.

All the Shelbys stood in the dining room, surprised by her appearance. She worried she'd come at a bad time. She looked back at all of them, noticing a new face among them. Dressed in a nice suit, hair slicked much like the other men in the room; he sat in front of a plate of food.

"Well hello there," the man said, his Irish accent very recognizable. His eyes ate her from bottom to top. "You're a very pretty thing. What's your name, love?"

"My name's Rose," she said. She felt sick. She knew that leer all too well.

"Rose," he repeated, "Fitting name for such a beauty. You work at The Garrison, yeah? I've heard talk that a pretty little barmaid works there."

"I do," she said.

"Leave the girl alone, Arthur," Polly said, staring at the man with cold eyes. "You should go," she added.

"Stay out of this, Pollyanna," he replied.

"She means it," Tommy said, "And I mean it. Get out."

"Oh come on, Tom," Arthur Jr. said, "He means nothing by it."

"Nothing at all," his father added. "I'm assuming she's yours, Tommy? Ah, I always knew you'd catch yourself a nice looking dame like her." He looked at Rose a bit more closely, "Don't I know you, girl?"

"No, I-I don't think so," she shook her head.

"Yeah, I think I do. I've seen you somewhere," he said. "I can't put my finger on it."

"It doesn't matter where you've seen her because you're leaving," Tommy said. "Don't talk to her. Don't even look at her," he told him. "Rosie, go home."

"But Tommy, I needed to talk to you about something."

"Go home, Rose. I'll come by later."

This wasn't a command. It was a plea. Rose nodded, "Alright."

She left the room with an uneasy feeling. It seemed she wasn't the only one who had problems with their father. She returned to the pub in time for the evening crowd. She could tell him later. Rose wouldn't be the reason his day became any worse.


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: This is one of the rougher chapters (kind of). Just a heads up.**

She hadn't expected to ever see him there. He came with Arthur, who seemed cheerier than usual. The older Shelby found her quite easy, instantly becoming more interested in her than his son. Rose could only think of one person as he patted Arthur's back and suggested he go wait in the private room. Him. He gave her that same stare that night; the terrible awful she could never erase. She shuddered, but continued her work.

He slapped money onto the bar, "Two pints of your best, please."

"Yes, sir," she said. She poured them from the tap and then passed them to him, taking his money. "Here you go, Mr. Shelby."

"Thank you, love," he replied. He then took hold of her wrist before she left, that glint in his eyes. "How much?" he asked.

"I'm sorry, sir?"

"How much for an hour or two? I heard you got your own little flat up there," he said, "So how much?"

"I'm not that kind of woman," she said, slipping her wrist from his grasp.

"Every girl's got a price," he threw down a stack of bills. "Girl's gotta eat, right? It would only be an hour."

"I already told you," she said, "I'm not a whore."

"Are you exclusively for my son then?"

"You have your beer, Mr. Shelby," she told him, "Arthur's waiting for you."

He sighed heavily, taking his money and stuffing it into his jacket, "If that's how you want to play it, darling. I like a good challenge." Arthur Sr. walked away from the bar, smirking smugly.

He made her sick. His cologne was thick; his smile made her shiver and her skin crawled looking at him. She couldn't believe the gull of him. What kind of man comes on to his son's girl that way? Harry came to her side, "You alright?"

"I'm fine," she said, "Just another touchy one."

"I'll stay with you tonight after closing," he said. "He might come back."

"I don't think so. Tommy will be here."

"I'm staying anyways," he said.

"Alright, Harry."

* * *

Closing time came and so did Tommy. He walked in as the last of the stragglers stumbled on home. She left a glass and a bottle for him, letting him pour it for himself as she began picking up mugs around the room. He didn't seem as upset as before, but she knew she'd still have to choose her words carefully.

"Your father seems like a real gentleman," she said, grabbing some mugs and bringing them to the bar.

Tommy scoffed, lighting a cigarette, "Oh, he is. He was a thieving whore-monger who walked out on us ten years ago when we needed him. He's a selfish bastard."

"Arthur seems glad he's here," she said, "They were in the private room for a while before they left for the fighting rings, I think. He seems to like him."

"'Like' is putting it lightly," he poured himself a whiskey and drank it in one go. "Arthur worshipped him when we were kids. It didn't matter how terrible he became or what he did. Arthur always made an excuse and claimed he'd change. I never believed it for a moment. I don't want you anywhere near him; he drags trouble around with him."

"I have no intentions of ever being around him," she picked up more bottles and glasses and set them on the bar before taking out a rag. "I don't think he can stay away from me though. Ugh, you should have seen him. He came in here throwing money at me like I'm some kind of prostitute. He sickens me."

"Is that why Harry's in the back?" he asked.

"He insisted on staying," she said, "So I let him."

"Good. My dad's never taken 'no' for an answer."

"That's a shame because I like saying 'no' a lot," she said, wiping down one of the tables.

Tommy snorted, taking a seat at one of the cleaner tables with his bottle and glass. "Just be careful, Rosie."

She looked over at him, "Why? Are you worried?"

"Of course I am," he said. He smoked his cigarette, and then said, "What was it you wanted to tell me?"

She took a seat at the table, wringing the rag in her hands nervously. "After you left this afternoon, I got to thinking about something."

"Which is?"

"Well, you know how Kimber ran the side-betting at the racetracks? He had control over all the pitches before you came along?" Tommy nodded, and she continued, "But then you said Richard is the one who actually owns the race track. He's certainly much richer than Kimber from owning such a large, notable race track, right? I mean, he probably makes hundreds on one day."

"Where are you going with this?"

"We could take Richard and Kimber at the same time."

"No, no, we can't Rose," he said. "We don't have the strength or the numbers even with the Lee family. He's too well connected. If I took him out, the police would have us hanged."

"And that's his weakness, isn't it? All the people he's connected to are connected through his children," she said. "His son is a chief inspector and his other son keeps contacts with global clients. His third son is an archaeologist. Charlotte was married to a member of parliament before he died, so she most likely still has friends there, and Prudence probably has her own contacts being on all those charity boards. This man owns a steel mill, a textile factory, a race track, and a shipping business. He has friends on government and business boards."

"Your point?"

"His children hate him."

"What makes you say that?"

"I was looking through some of my mum's letters," she pulled out a wrinkled diary page, smoothing it out on the table. "I think she ripped it out of a journal. At first I thought it was some free form poem, but when I looked at it more closely, it was a diary entry." She handed him the page, "It says that my mother wanted to be a poet, and Charlotte wanted to be a singer. Nigel wasn't very fond of being his father's lap dog; Peter was apparently the black sheep in the family, which explains why he traveled so far away, and Alan hated how Richard's always pushed him so hard."

"You got all this from a single piece of paper?" he asked, unconvinced.

"You weren't paying attention at Cheltenham were you?" When he looked at her bemused, she explained, "Richard came in here today, trying to make some sort of half assed peace with me by giving me a baby book they just _happened_ to have lying around. He told me that if I'd lived with them, he would've given me away to some rich person. He mentioned Kimber, and how he tried getting Charlotte paired up with him but she didn't take the bait."

"That's why she kept leaving the table."

"Exactly," she said, "Matching her up with Kimber was the whole reason they were even there. She only danced with Kimber to appease Richard."

"So you think that because they hate their father, they'd join you in killing him?" When he said it that way, her plan didn't sound so great after all.

"N-no," she said. "They won't have to kill him or have any part in it. They could give us a push in the right direction."

"And how will they do that?"

"When you move in on him, the police will most likely show up. Alan can hold them back," she said. "Nigel can probably convince some of the men to turn on Richard during the fighting. He's the leader of the gang now that Richard's become so legitimate. They could really help."

"Or they can tip off Richard to our plans," he said. He shook his head, "No, no, Rosie. That's too risky; too many things could go wrong."

"But, Tommy, it's a solid idea, isn't it? Isn't it at least worth looking into?"

"I've already thought about my own plans for Black Star," he said. "We attack Kimber. Richard will get his turn, but we start off with Kimber."

"What makes you think Richard won't join the fray?"

"Because he's gone soft," Tommy said. "He's an old man who's running on limited time. He wouldn't risk his men. He relies on them too much. He relies on Nigel too much."

"Would you at least consider-"

"-Rosie," he said, "There's some things you don't know about and you shouldn't. Please, stay here. Stay safe. Do what I ask of you just this once."

Defeated, she nodded. Perhaps her plan wasn't as good as she thought. Rose stood from the table and continued cleaning. He followed. His arms came around her, pulling her to him. He kissed the crook of her neck and said, "I wouldn't be able to sleep if something happened to you."

Tommy let go of her and kissed her goodnight. His words made the humiliation fade only a smidge. She'd hoped he would like her idea or at least take a part of it, if anything. Rose finished cleaning up the bar. Harry closed the storage room door, telling her he was finally taking off for the night.

"If you need anything," he said, putting on his hat and coat, "I'm just down the street."

"I'll be fine, Harry. Please, go get some rest," she insisted.

He nodded, waving goodbye and locked the doors behind him. Rose felt exhausted. She untied her apron and trumped up the staircase. She'd wished Tommy hadn't completely shut down her idea. She supposed she could rethink things before bringing it up again. She might even go to Nigel or Alan herself and explain everything. She was sure Charlotte would hear her out. Maybe she'd talk to them for her. Unlocking the door, she saw the oil lantern by the bed and the fireplace already lit. She saw a jacket hanging off one of the dining chairs. She suddenly felt unsettled.

"What are you doing in here?" she asked Arthur Sr.

"I came here to get my two hours," he answered. "I can do a lot with you in two hours."

"I don't know how you got in here, but you're leaving now."

"I don't take orders from little girls like you," he said. "I answer to bigger men, and they told me I could do what I pleased with you." Arthur Sr. rose from his chair, lust in his eyes and a smirk on his face. Her stomach tied into little knots and she backed into the door.

"Who?"

"Nobody you should be concerned with." He trapped her between him and the door, arms on both sides. She nearly choked on his cologne. "Now I see why my son likes you so much. You're a sliver of a thing; easier to flip around."

"You're vile and obscene," she snapped, breaking out from his trap. "Get out or I'll make you get out."

He laughed heartily, "Oh, so you want to play games? I like games. How about we play cat-and-mouse, huh? You can be the little mouse and I'll be the cat who catches you." He unbuttoned his vest, tossing it aside.

Rose's heart beat a million times a minute. The tight, anxious feeling came back to her chest, and she thought she'd vomit from looking at him. She shook her head, looking around for an object to throw as he stalked her around the room. She felt on the kitchen counters, and found nothing. He had her cornered by the fireplace. Rose backed up against the end table, her hands gripping the edge. She ducked around him, but he caught her. Her back hit the bed and she immediately kicked and screamed. She hit his chest and clawed at his arms and face. "Wiggle all you want, little mouse," he said, "I won't bite you."

Rose inched up the bed, but he only followed. She cried. Hot tears fell down her cheeks and she huffed and puffed. Her hands searched and searched. Finally, one of them found something burning hot. She barely felt the burn as she smashed the oil lamp into the side of Arthur Sr's face, causing him to shriek as the oil fire scorched his cheek. He thrashed about the apartment, trying to pat away the fire and having no luck. Paralyzed, she watched him finally grab a handful of flour from the sack and throw it onto his face. She smelled smoke. She heard the crackle of fire. Rose looked at saw the lantern sitting beside the roaring fireplace. Flames licked up the bricks and broke the kindle with perfect ease. She scrambled off the bed as the flames lit the oil trail and bit into the bed sheets.

Arthur Sr. bolted for the door. Rose made to follow him, but he shut and locked it in her face. She pounded the door, kicking it at the bottom.

"Please! Let me out! Let me out!" she shouted.

"Sorry, darling! It's what they paid me for!"

She bashed on the door, even jiggling the knob open, but to no avail. She turned and faced her apartment. The bed and pillows were ablaze now, and the fire spread across the wooden floors, taking up anything it found. Smoke filled her lungs, and she coughed it back out. She ran to her dresser first, quickly taking up the frames and the papers in the drawer. She grabbed her copy of 'Peter Pan', and kept them close to her chest. Rose headed straight for the window. She unlocked the latch and forced it open with one hand. Fresh air blew into the room at once, but this only agitated the fire more.

"Someone help! Harry! Tommy!" she screamed. "Help me, please!"

Rose looked down. Her apartment was much higher than she'd anticipated. Regardless, Rose balanced herself on the window sill, frames and papers to her chest.

"No, Rosie! Rosie, don't jump! You'll get hurt!" Harry came running down the street, as did other people coming out their doors. "Someone fetch a ladder! Quick!"

"Harry!" she sobbed. She clutched onto the thin window sill, "Harry, I'm scared!"

"I know, love! Help's coming!"

Somebody came with a tall ladder, and a few men helped Harry put it against the wall. She heard the sirens of the fire brigade coming down the street; more people showed up, gasping and shouting in terror at the angry inferno. Harry climbed up the ladder right when she heard a crack behind her. He let out a hand, and she slipped off the window.

"I'll go down first," he said, "You come after."

She could only nod her head. The firemen began pulling out their hoses and other men telling people to step back from the fire. Rose watched Harry begin climbing back down. She carefully turned around on the step, and then descended the ladder. Her knees shook and her palms became sweaty. She tried catching her breath, but couldn't get a single lungful without smoke penetrating through. Suddenly, a blast roared out through the night and broke through the window in a bellow of flames. Rose felt the heat of the fire's new gas leak on her head, which made her climb down faster. She reached the bottom step, and fell into Harry's arms.

"You're alright, love," Harry said comfortingly. She sobbed, the cries ripping her throat. She let people see. She didn't care anymore. Fear rocked and trembled through her body. It all happened so quickly, she wasn't sure if it'd been real or not. "You're alright," he hushed her, patting her hair gently, "You're safe now, Rosie."

"Rose! Rose!" Polly cut through the crowd as the firemen hosed down the flames. "Jesus Christ, Rosie! Oh my God!" She hugged Rose once Harry released her. "Thank God you're alright! When I heard…I thought…But you're okay. You're okay now. Oh, you're okay. She's okay."

"Rose!"

"Rosie!"

"You alright there, love?"

"We came as fast as we could! I told John to drive as fast as that car could take us!"

"Are you okay, Rosie?!"

"Rose! Rose! Out of my fucking way! Rosie!"

The Shelbys came at her all at once. Esme hugged her tightly. John smothered her in cheek kisses and held her to his chest. Arthur nearly cried in relief, and Finn wouldn't let go of her waist. Tommy came last, pushing through his brothers as he clutched her. He buried his face in her hair; he wouldn't let go of her for anyone. He kissed her cheeks, her forehead, her nose, her lips, and her jaw. He whispered apologies, words of love, and how he should have known.

"I'm going to fucking kill him," he growled through his teeth. "I'm going to kill that selfish bastard."

"Tommy," Arthur came timidly, "You're nothing thinkin' straight. Let's take Rosie home with us-"

"-I'm fucking killing him, Arthur!" Tommy bellowed at him. "You're always fucking protecting him! Always making up excuses for him! Well find a fucking excuse for this, eh? Eh?!" He pushed Arthur, who-for once-did not fight back.

"Tommy!" Polly put an arm around Rose, "Stop making a scene and let's get Rose some water and fresh air."

Rose sniffled, trying to hold back a sob, "Tommy, please."

Tommy's rage settled. He saw her fear, and he shared it the same. He took off his coat and put it around her shoulders. Tommy kissed her again, stroking her cheeks and wiping her tears. "I'm sorry I wasn't here. I should have been here."

"Her pictures," she wept, "I saved her pictures and her poems. I-I-I couldn't leave them to burn. I-I cou-couldn't."

"I know, I know," he said, pressing his forehead to hers. "We'll find a place for them. I promise."

He kissed her again before leading her off to his car. On the way home, Rose thought of what happened before the fire. She hugged her sides, rocking slightly. She thought what he'd said to her. "Someone sent him there," she said when they stopped at the house.

"What?"

"Somebody sent him after me," she said. "They told him he could do what he liked with me, as long as he did what they asked of him. I don't know who he meant. He never told me."

"Rosie, we'll talk about it tomorrow. You need some rest."

"I never get any to begin with," she said. "How could I get any now?"

"Because I'm there."


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: I just wanted to let whoever is talking about Brooklyn Knight stealing/ripping off from my story, I want to let them know it isn't true in the slightest. You (and whoever else has been harassing her) are not helping by spreading hate or rumors. She is a good person and a very talented writer whom I respect a lot. Your argument that our characters have the same first name and that they both live about The Garrison is flimsy, since there's a ton of other stories that have the same thing. She and I would really appreciate it if those persons stopped. I understand you believe you're 'helping', and I thank you for the thought, but sending someone hate on their story isn't 'helping'. It's only making the problem worse. Thanks!**

This certainly wasn't the first time he found Rose in his arms. He'd shared a bed with her a few times before, keeping things completely innocent. Yet, this time felt more intimate. For one, his bed was significantly smaller than Rose's. Her body pressed up perfectly against his, and she hadn't minded him in only his white boxer shorts. She wore a slightly smaller version of her nightdress (which was one of Ada's) made of satin. The thin fabric created a barrier between his hands and her skin that killed him. Tommy could barely stop himself from thinking of how she'd quivered and gasped at his touches at John's wedding; how her body reacted to him so naturally, as if it were made for his hands. He hated saying it. It sounded so cliché to him. But, he said it to himself.

 _'_ _We're two sides of the same coin, her and me.'_

She was light, full of purity and nearly angelic. He was darkness, full of pain and devilment. They shared in a torment only they understood. They both carried pain and memories they couldn't erase. He knew of her nightmares. She moaned and fidgeted in her sleep. She only settled by his hand smoothing through her hair. Her mere presence sent his demons running. Lying beside Rose, he slept peacefully for the first time in ages. The scrapes of pick axes and shovels did not haunt him. He no longer woke up sweating and breathless. She made it all better. She made **him** better.

Tommy was more than sure about what transpired the night before. He knew his father had been there. His father was a despicable, no-good, cowardly thief. Fleeing the scene of a crime was something he'd do. This wouldn't be the first time his father pursued a woman either. Most women eventually gave in to his father's money and advances. Rose posed a challenge for him. Tommy lied on his back; Rose's head on his chest, and thought. She mentioned someone sent him, but whom? Rose wasn't part of his plans. The only person he could think of was Richard, though he couldn't see the old man being cruel enough to hurt his kin. Campbell also came to mind, but for what benefit? Sending a man after Rose wouldn't help him find the guns or Freddie. His father was paid to kill Rose, not threaten her. Who would want her dead?

 _'_ _Grace…'_

No, Grace wouldn't do something so drastic just for Tommy's affections. She'd learned well enough the day of her visit. Yet, she wasn't here on that reason alone. He thought of the slender blonde rifling through the damage done to the apartment. She'd search for some sort of clue to take back to her husband. A mercenary (or sorts) would've ensured Rose wouldn't come back and find things missing. She'd find nothing. Tommy never dare keep anything around Rose. He didn't want her linked to him in any way other than romantically. The guns were currently stashed away in Danny Whizbang's empty grave, while the man himself lived up in London where he kept an ear out. Rose knew nothing of it, and he kept it that way.

"Tommy?" her voice sounded small and groggy.

"Yes?" he said, brushing his fingers in her hair.

"Is the pub okay?"

"I don't know," he answered. "I haven't left."

"Oh…"

"You moan in your sleep," he said. "Did you know that?"

She looked up at him and shook her head, "I do?"

"You do," he answered. He pecked her lips. He wouldn't tell her that her faint moans and wiggling made him…uncomfortable.

She slipped away from him and sat up, stretching her arms. That's when he saw them. He'd never noticed them until now. The whip marks across her back nearly connected like a map. He reached out and touched the lowest one. Rose tensed at his fingers. He knew embarrassment and shame made her knees draw upward. Tommy didn't ask about them. Instead, he sat up and kissed the one that ran between her shoulders. He then kissed up her shoulder and into the bend of her neck. He wrapped an arm around her.

"I should go see Harry," she said. "The fire could've spread or something."

"It couldn't have spread that far," he told her. "I'm sure it's fine."

They didn't speak for a while more. They simply enjoyed each other's company. "He was there, Tommy," she said next. "Your dad. He was there in my flat when you and Harry had left."

"What did he want?" Tommy dreaded the answer.

"The same thing most men want," she replied. "I got away from him though," she showed him her hand where he spotted light burn marks, "The oil lamp was what did it. He's probably scarred half his face by now."

Tommy snorted, "Won't make him as popular with the ladies as before." He'd probably tell them it happened in a fight or at war. "Don't worry. He won't come again. He'll run now."

 _'_ _Because I will hunt him down if he did come back,'_ Tommy said.

"He's your father, Tommy," she said. "He's just a slimy, old man. Hurting him won't do any good."

He rested his head on her shoulder. "I suppose you're right."

"If anything, he'll just run off now and go somewhere else," she added. "We don't have to worry about him."

"For a woman who was attacked last night, you don't sound very frightened."

"I've been through worse than him," she said. "I'm more worried about whoever sent him. They must not like me very much."

"No, they don't," he chuckled.

She paused, and then said, "What if they meant to hurt you? They think hurting me would hurt you?"

In that sense, Grace isn't too far off. "Maybe," he said, "Let's not talk about that right now."

"And why not? I think trying to figure out who wants me dead is a little more important."

"Because I'm busy in the head," he said, "And I want to be busy with something else."

He turned her head and kissed her. Rose giggled in their kiss as he brought her back to the bed with him, his hand finding her waist and traveling downwards. She shook her head, talking in between kisses, "Not now, Tommy."

He groaned into her neck, "Why?"

"Ahem."

Tommy turned and saw Polly in the doorway. He had half a mind to throw her out. He sighed.

"Morning you two," she said. "Breakfast is downstairs. We're having a family meeting in a few minutes."

"We'll be down soon," Tommy told her.

"It's important you both come, Thomas," she said, narrowing her eyes. "Get dressed and come down."

She left the door open and Tommy thought about locking the door next time. He lied on his back, disappointed and annoyed once again. Rose put her head back on his chest, kissing him briefly before she slid over him and onto the floor. He hadn't meant for his eyes to wander, but they did. She lifted his chin, "Hey, up here."

He watched her begin dressing. As he dressed himself, he couldn't imagine why someone wanted to hurt Rose. He can't exactly say Rose is defenseless. She'd proven otherwise with the burn marks on her hand and Erasmus Lee's black eye. His little Rose had thorns of her own.

* * *

He and Rose walked into the shop and he closed the double doors behind him. Tommy noticed immediately Arthur wasn't there. He didn't ask why. He already knew. Rose sat at the larger table in front of Tommy, while he stood. Ada was present, but absent Freddie.

"Freddie at home?" Rose asked.

Ada nodded, "He's watching Karl while I'm here."

"Are you sure that's wise? I mean, what if they come for you here, Ada?"

"I told Freddie I'd sneak out the back," she said. "They wouldn't find me even if they did come."

"How is he?"

The two went into a small conversation about Freddie and Karl. He'd remained in their basement apartment for the time being, taking care of their son and bringing in money from his "work". She neglected to mention what this "work" was, but only that he was more careful about it now. Rose asked about Karl, and told her if they needed anything she'd happily bring it to them.

 _'_ _Why would they want to kill her?'_ He then thought, _'Unless they didn't want to kill her.'_

"I think you all know why we're here," Polly began. "Last night, your father was seen fleeing The Garrison right before the fire started. Why he was there? We don't know, but all we know is he's walking around still and that isn't good for us."

"It isn't good for Rosie," John said.

"What happened, Rosie?" Ada asked her. "What did he want?"

Rose didn't speak right away. She closed herself up. Her shoulders suddenly lifted and he saw the tension. She wasn't expecting an interrogation or to replay it for them. She did anyway. Rose told them all how she'd came into her apartment after Tommy and Harry left; his attempt to attack her and the oil lamp she smashed into his face, and him locking her in the room when the fire began. She told them he'd said someone paid him to be there.

"Why?" Ada asked. "Who would want you dead?"

"Anybody that wants Tommy dead," Polly said, looking right at him. "They'll get to you by getting to her. Everyone in this town knows you two are together. They think if they hurt her, you'll be more vulnerable to them or you'll do whatever they ask."

"But killing me?" Rose said. "How is killing me going to solve anything? Wouldn't they want to take me alive? Beat me? Why would they want me dead?"

"Is that what he said exactly?" John said. "Maybe he meant he was paid to just hurt you a little; not actually kill you. He might've thought the fire would injure you enough."

"The fire could've killed her," Ada said next. "I don't see how he'd think that was a good idea."

"He's never been the brightest of men," Tommy commented. "He's always looking for an easy way out instead of doing things proper." He pulled out his usual cigarette and lit it.

"I know it's a long shot," Rose said, "But I couldn't stop thinking about it last night."

"What?"

"Maybe they thought Tommy would be with me."

The room fell silent for a moment. "What makes you say that?" Polly asked.

"I don't know. Maybe whoever paid him thought Tommy might be with me. Of course, he wasn't interested in killing Tommy-"

"-His own son. He'd never go that far-"Polly added.

"Yes," she nodded, "So maybe he thought if he left the fire the way it was, whoever hired him would think Tommy was dead too. He could still get paid without actually doing anything."

"Only we're not dead, and only you came out of the fire," Tommy said.

"Which is why he'd be on the run," Polly said. "This mystery person would be pissed that he didn't hold up his end."

"And they'd be after him," Ada said.

"If they were after Tom, why didn't they just kill him on his own?" John asked. "It would've been easier just to shoot him than attack Rose."

"They paid him to kill," Tommy said, "They didn't tell him how. His plan was probably to rape Rose, maybe rough her up a bit, and then come after me. Rose fighting back and the fire weren't part of his plan, so he improvised."

"Then why hasn't he come for you?" Ada said.

"Because he's a coward," Tommy answered, "A bastard coward who can't do his job without taking a little extra for himself. He'll probably spin a story about how he caught us together and set fire to the flat, killing us both inside so he can get paid."

"Anyone with a brain wouldn't take those odds," Polly said. "They'd want to make sure the job was done. He probably doesn't have the money."

"And if they did pay him," Rose said, "He won't have it for very long."

"Yeah," John sighed, "He's a dead man now."

Tommy nodded in agreement. He went over his list inside his head. He came up with names, but the motives seemed implausible. His father could always have been just talking out of the side of his mouth. He wasn't an honest man.

 _'_ _My fucking father…'_ Then it dawned on him. _'Father…Father!'_

"The day he first met you," Tommy said instantly. "The day our Dad saw you, he said you looked familiar."

"Tommy," Polly said, "That's a chat up line all men use."

"No, he seemed sure he'd seen her before," Tommy replied, "Only he couldn't place her anywhere. I think I know how they would've met before."

Rose gasped. She didn't speak, but he saw her hands ball into fists. She tried controlling the trembling. The only thing she whispered was, "Him."

"But you said that he said it was someone bigger than you," Ada said.

"He's built like a brick house," Rose said, her voice quavering slightly. "Maybe he meant physically bigger. If he-If he knows where I-I-I am, he-he'll come for me. Oh God, he'll come for me! He'll take me away!"

"Why wouldn't he just come after her himself if he's such a big man?" John said, "He sounds like a bloody coward to me."

"He wanted to scare her," Tommy said. "Our father wasn't out for me. He wasn't hired by anyone important. He was hired by a drunken, old chicken farmer who does nothing but intimidate people. He only knows how to hurt people weaker than him." And Tommy wasn't weaker than him. "Our father probably told him about us. Maybe he found out where she is, and didn't know what he was getting into."

"Arthur would've offered to do the job in exchange for money," Polly said.

"He-He-He doesn't have money!" Rose said, "Barely any to feed him and me. I can't imag-imagine him hiring som-someone else."

"He could've put in his life savings," Ada said. "It'd give him a reason to go after Dad."

He didn't know why he hadn't thought of him before now. Richard and Kimber took up most of his time, and Campbell wasn't making things better by pursuing his mission for the guns. Tommy knew he kept them in a place Campbell or anyone else would suspect. Danny still came by every now and then with news from London, but he never said anything other than to his brothers. If Rose's father was lurking about Small Heath, he'll have Jeremiah keep an eye out for him.

The family meeting ended and everyone left for their business. Rose sat still in her seat. He could see the wheels turning in her mind. He felt her fear. Tommy put his hands on her shoulders, and she flinched. He didn't let go. He rubbed her arms and kissed her neck. She relaxed. He couldn't promise her that her father wouldn't find her. He would never lie. Not again. But he will protect her, and keep her safe.

"I have to go see Harry," she said, stiff as she stood up. "I need to see if everything's okay."

She'd be safe with Harry. Harry wasn't as weak as he pretended, Tommy knew. "I'll be there in a bit," he said, "I have business."

"When do you not have business?" she asked, trying to relieve her tension.

"Good question."


	27. Chapter 27

Rose was terrified. She couldn't shake the fear no matter what she did that day. Rose remembered that little, meek girl in the basement. She shivered and flinched at the lightest touch. When the men in the bar became too loud or too rowdy, she shook. She couldn't look people in the face. Her neck hurt from how many times she turned to the door when it opened. She also refused to leave the safety of the bar top. Harry understood. He never asked anything other than bottles and glasses. She could barely focus on her work and she felt sick. She took a tablet so she could fend off a headache, and it thankfully worked.

Eventually, Arthur Jr. arrived. She saw his downtrodden face and sadness in him. This wasn't the usual sadness she saw in people. Arthur was crushed, broken. He didn't even look her way. He ordered a bottle of whiskey; just the bottle alone. He disappeared into the private room and didn't come out again. Rose remembered Tommy telling her Arthur admired their father. In a way, she didn't blame him. All boys love and look up to their fathers. Perhaps he thought Arthur Sr. had changed his ways. Instead, he attacked Rose, the woman Arthur loved and cared for. Rose thought about talking to him. He wasn't himself. He didn't speak, let alone talk. The sadness wavered in her mind for the next few hours. She decided she'd see him.

"Arthur?" she said softly, opening the door and peeking inside.

Arthur didn't look up. He stared at the bit left in his bottle. She took a seat next to him. "Arthur?"

"He's a fucking liar," he said, "A goddamn bloody liar."

She knew who he meant. He touched his shoulder gently, "I know, Arthur. I know."

"First, he tries to hurt you and fucking let you burn," he said, "He lies about it and says he was never there. Then he lied about the casino in Atlantic City. He had me steal from my own family for him. He made me think he had changed for good this time. When I heard what he did, I felt so shameful. I felt terrible. I told him you were a good woman and that he should've left you alone. He told me you were a good looking dame. Then he laughed at me. He said 'a girl like her would never want a man like you; not when she's got Tommy around'."

"Arthur-"

"-I love you, Rose, and I know you don't love me back the same. I know. I've made my peace with that. I still care about you," he looked at her, "You know that, right? You know I care about you?"

"Of course I do," she answered, "And I care about you. I don't blame you for wanting approval from your father. I don't blame you for what he did, because I know you care about me."

"I do," he confirmed. He gave a quick laugh, "You should see what you did to his face. Half his mustache burnt off, burn marks on the side of his face, he looks awful. He was chatting up some women and then walked away from him." He spotted her hand, "You alright?"

"I'm fine, Arthur," she said.

"He said somebody sent him to hurt you," Arthur said.

"He told you?"

"He was trying to rile me up," he said. "I didn't think he was serious."

"What did he say?"

"Does the name Eddie mean anything to you?"

Suddenly, she could barely breathe. She sucked in every breath she could, but it only sped up her heart. Rose stared at him wide-eyed, her hands shaking more than before. She grabbed the whiskey bottle and downed the bit left inside. Ignoring the burning sensation running down her throat, she looked over at him again.

"Eddie? I-Is th-that what you said?" she asked.

He nodded. Then he realized, "That's…Eddie is-"

"-Him." She'd heard very few people call him 'Eddie'. Every so often, he let her walk around the back yard, let her feed the chickens, and sit in the sun. She supposed Arthur Sr. spotted her on one of those days. Rose shook her head, "No. No, no, no, no. He can't find me. He can't. I won't go back there. He can't make me go back."

She found herself rushing out of the room. Tommy's bedroom. She couldn't go upstairs to the charred, ash ridden apartment. She'd go to Tommy's bedroom. He wouldn't find her there. Without her coat, apron still on, Rose ran. She ran all the way down Garrison Court, took a left and ran through Watery Lane. Passing Numbers 2 and 4, she found the door to Number 6. With everyone in the shop next door, they didn't hear her come in. Rose hurried up the stairs, found the door to Tommy's bedroom, slammed the door and locked herself inside. Her head swam and she felt so light headed. Her legs ached. Her throat was dry. She couldn't stop the oncoming tightness in her chest or the slight pain in her head. She slid down the door and sobbed into her knees. Rocking back and forth, she imagined all kinds of things. She whimpered seeing him burst in through the door and grab her by the hair. He'd do that.

 _'_ _He'll come for me. Tommy or no Tommy, he will come. When he does, he'll take me away. He'll drag me out. He'll throw me back into that basement and this will all go away.'_

She couldn't go back to the basement. She wouldn't go back. Nobody could make her. She imagined the darkness that surrounded her, and the drafts she endured every night. Rose could see her wrists chained to a broken heater, the cuffs on so tight they sometimes cut her skin. The first few times she'd screamed and begged for him to let her out. Then the screams became whimpers. Then the whimpers withered into silence. Rose choked back a cry, thinking of the light shining down on her from the top of the stairs, his large shadow slowly coming over her. She thought of his angry hands and rancid breath.

 _'_ _No, no, no, no, no…'_

Rose crawled over to his bed. The covers, the pillows, the sheets all smelled like him. Rose stuffed her face into one of the pillows. Yes, it was a bit peculiar to some, but to Rose it felt like home. The shadows, the visions, the darkness all slipped away once she smelled the cigarettes and cologne hinted on his pillows. She rested one arm under it and rested her head there. Then she felt it. Something long and wooden pressed on her hand, and when Rose pulled it out she realized what it was.

An opium pipe.

She shouldn't be surprised. How else did Tommy endure all those sleepless nights? How could he sleep at all with the things he'd seen? Rose sat up, rolling the pipe in her hands. She wondered what kept him from sleep. She knew what kept her from sleep. Rose jumped when someone jiggled the doorknob. She shot up right away, holding the pipe in the air. She didn't know what she planned to do, but she'd do it. Rose would not go back. He'd have to kill her first. She heard the clicking of the lock, and it swung open.

He stood with his pistol aimed at her. She screamed. "Rosie!" Tommy breathed, putting his pistol away. "What are you doing?"

"I-I-I…" she lowered the pipe and looked at her feet.

He saw the pipe in her hand. "Why do you have that?"

"I found it. I didn't mean to," she quickly said. "I was in your bed and I felt it and pulled it out. I didn't do anything with it. I-I came here because Arthur told me it was my father who hired yours, and I got scared and I didn't know what I was thinking."

"And your plan was to bludgeon him with my pipe if he came in here?" He asked, confused.

"I-I don't know," she said. "It's what I had in my hand."

He sighed, closing the door behind him. Tommy came to the bed and sat her down next to him. "Rosie," he said, "I can't promise you that he won't come for you. I'm not going to lie to you. If he was willing to pay a man to hurt you, then he's pretty hell bent on finding you himself. Your father is an evil bastard. When he comes, he's not going to drag you off. He's going to do what he did to your mother. There's no basement for you. There's only a grave." He saw her quiver. He reached into his pocket, "That's why I got you this." Tommy showed her a small silver gun. It wasn't like his. It had a small barrel and small enough to fit in a bag. She held it in her hands. It felt a little heavy, but nothing she couldn't hold. "So you can protect yourself," he explained.

"I-I don't know how to fire a gun," she said. "I've never done that before in my life."

"It's easy," he said. He stood her up and came behind her. "You hold it like this," he said, "And keep your arm straight."

Tommy explained how to point and shoot. Rose didn't like the idea of using a gun, but she had no choice. She wouldn't be his prisoner. Never again.

* * *

 _"_ _How was your trip into London, love?"_

 _He kissed her cheek the minute she came through the door. Grace could never stand the smoke and smog of Small Heath, not even when her parents moved near there. It was as if the slum spread even up town. Chester let her take a few days away in London to get out of such an uncivilized area. She put her grocery bags in the kitchen, starting to store things away herself. They'd left Mary back home so there was someone in house. This left a lot of the domestic things to Grace. Not that she minded in the slightest. Cooking, cleaning and washing gave her something to do when she wasn't focused on her charities._

 _"_ _It wasn't eventful," she answered, "But I did see something interesting."_

 _Chester came into the kitchen after her, pipe in between his lips and tobacco puffing from them. Grace honestly couldn't say whether she loved him or not. Yes, he was a loving, doting husband who gave her whatever she wished. He adored her, yet, she found it hard to feel the same. Anybody after Tommy seemed dull._

 _But he had someone else now._

 _"_ _And what was that?" he asked, taking up the day's newspaper she'd brought for him._

 _"_ _Did you ever hear of a man named Danny Whizbag?"_

 _"_ _The name has come across my desk," he nodded. "He was associated with those Peaky Blinders."_

 _"_ _Is," she corrected._

 _Chester glanced up at her bewildered. "'Is'? What do you mean?"_

 _"_ _He isn't dead," she said. "He's alive and in London. I don't know what he's doing there, but he must be there for a reason."_

 _Her husband nodded. Grace never liked telling him things, despite what Tommy thought. However, she knew if she kept it from him and he found out she'd known, he wouldn't be happy. She already upset him enough by their lack of children. Whenever they made love, she'd spend the next few weeks hoping she'd have one. The doctor even considered prescribing fertility medicines. She hoped it wouldn't come to that._

 _With Tommy, she'd been more than a baby-making machine._

 _"_ _Hm," he said, smoking his pipe and opening the paper, "It's something worth looking into. Love, would you put some tea on? I'd like some."_

 _"_ _Yes, darling," she said, kissing his scruffy cheek before walking to the kettle._

 _"_ _Ah, did you ever get a hold of that fellow?" he asked as if he'd only just remembered. "The-uh-the-the chicken farmer?"_

 _Grace remembered the stinking drunk she'd found after dipping in and out of pubs and talking to gypsies. She talked to whoever she could about a pretty girl named 'Rose'. Some knew of her, others didn't, but usually her ventures came up empty. Then she happened to say it in a bar, and somebody overheard her. He was a very large, bald man who smelled of birds and booze. When she mentioned the name, he began his rant._

 _"_ _I did," she said, setting the kettle on the stove to boil. She grabbed his favorite tea from the cabinet with two cups. "He's a rotten drunk, but I gave him the information."_

 _"_ _What would you even want with a man like him?" he asked._

 _She hesitated. Grace then turned around, bright smile on her face. She walked up to him and said, "Nothing you should worry about, darling."_

 _"_ _When it concerns my wife, I do," he retorted._

 _She put one arm over his shoulders and her hand on his chest. Her fingers dwindled on the buttons of his shirt. She gave him her sweet smile, "Oh Chester," she said, "I love it when you worry. It makes me feel so safe." She nuzzled his cheek._

 _He chuckled, "Only because you're so precious to me, love."_

 _He kissed her. She wished he were Tommy._


	28. Chapter 28

To her surprise, Rose felt safer with a gun. She could defend herself against Him-or anyone else-that comes her way. She kept it in her purse at all times. Including this moment, walking up the steps of Charlotte's home, called Waverly Manor she'd heard. It was a smaller version of her family home with more flowers and trees. She'd taken a taxi there, using a large cut of her money to go alone. Tommy had no idea she'd come. Rose felt so terrible hiding this from him, because he'd never lie to her, but he would've disapproved. He'd told her that her idea wasn't a good one. He said none of them would agree or would turn their backs on them last minute.

Charlotte wouldn't. She believed it. All the poems signed 'Fancy Nancy and Lady Lottie' and all the pictures of two joyful sisters proved that to her. Rose, in her peach dress, knocked on the door and the maid let her in. Thankfully, Charlotte's home wasn't as obnoxious as Richard's. Everything seemed light and elegant looking. There weren't so many pictures on the walls. In the distance, she could hear a jaunty piano tune playing in the parlor.

"She's in there," the maid told her. "Would you like me to escort you?"

"No, thank you," she said. "I'll go myself."

The maid nodded and left. Rose carefully stepped towards the entrance to the parlor. A smaller room of cozy furniture in front of a marble fireplace, with shelves of records on one side made up the parlor. At the grand piano, she saw Charlotte sitting alone. Slender fingers danced along the keys, and her slim figure moved to the music in place. Rose watched her in the genuine happiness.

 _"_ _You could have a great career,  
And you should;  
Yes you should;  
Only one thing stops you dear:  
You're too good;  
Way too good!"_

She sang beautifully. She sounded like the singers on the records, possibly even better. Rose smiled watching her. Charlotte's smiles and happiness never seemed entirely genuine. Around her father it was a well rehearsed act for company. Yet, sitting at the piano, Charlotte didn't need to play her part. She could be herself here in her home.

 _"_ _If you want a future, darlin',  
Why don't you get a past?  
'Cause that fatal moment's comin' at last..."_

Someone tapped her shoulder and she saw the twins. They smiled brightly at her but didn't speak. She watched with Hazel as Jane left them and sat down beside her mother on the bench. Charlotte didn't stop playing or singing, and only smiled at her daughter. Jane joined in, both of them singing in unison.

 _"_ _We're all alone, no chaperone  
Can get our number  
The world's in slumber  
Let's misbehave!"_

"They're wonderful," Rose whispered to Hazel.

Hazel nodded, "Mum and Jane always sing together. Mum taught Jane how to sing, so they sing all the time."

Rose saw the sincerity there. Here in their home, there was nobody to impress or flatter. They didn't have expectations or regulations. Perhaps Rose could use that, but for now, she'd listen until they reached the last chorus of the song.

 _"_ _They say that bears have love affairs  
And even camels  
We're merely mammals  
Let's misbehave!"_

The song ended in laughter. "You're getting better," Charlotte said, their laughter dying down, "But you still need more practice."

"Mum," Hazel called, "Look whose come for a visit."

Charlotte turned and her smile disappeared. She stared at Rose with uncertainty, even confusion. She rose from the piano bench and smoothed out her dress. Rose couldn't contain the butterflies in her stomach either. She hadn't thought she'd ever come here or be asking for such a favor. Though, the previous night while Tommy slept, she thought of Charlotte. Out of all the Westons at that table that day, she was the most torn. Prudence hid hers with silent sobs and her white gloves. Richard kept a stone face. Charlotte, however, she'd cried out in the open. She'd poured apology after apology. She was almost desperate for Rose's forgiveness. It'd given her an idea.

"Hello, Charlotte," she said first.

"Rose," Charlotte said, "What a surprise. I didn't think you'd ever come back or that you even knew where we lived."

"I asked Nigel." Her conversation with the family gang leader had been brief but sweet. He never brought up his father, but he was more than happy to tell her where Charlotte lived.

 _'_ _You, uh, you're a lot like her, you know. Like Nancy, I mean. Not just in your face either. You…You got that fire, that spark she always had. Ha, she was the rebel, not me.'_

Charlotte nodded, "Of course." She looked around the room for an answer, "I can ask Helen to bring us some tea, if you like. The girls can join us, if that's alright."

"I actually wanted to speak to you alone," she told her. "It's important."

"Oh," she said, "Alright. That's fine too. Girls?"

The twins nodded and said they'd be upstairs. They smiled at Rose as they left, leaving her alone in the parlor with their mother. Rose walked towards Charlotte, who gave a small grin.

"You look well," she said. "I trust that Thomas treats you well?"

"He does," she nodded. "Why is your house called Waverly Manor?"

"It's my husband's home," she said, "Before he died in the war, I was Charlotte Waverly. My children are Waverlys, and Albert will get this house when he marries. But, I don't want to bore you with anymore talk about us," she gestured to a chair, "Please, sit."

Rose took a seat in front of her, keeping her purse on her lap. She breathed out her nerves, but that did no good. "I'm sorry," Charlotte said first, "About how things ended last time. I wish it'd gone better, but with the situation how it is, I knew it wouldn't anyways."

"It wasn't your fault."

"It was. I should have told you and damn whatever Dad said," she told her. "He said to wait to tell you, so that's what we did. He said we should stop looking for you because chances were that you'd died too, so that's what we did. We listened when he said there was nothing we could do to help a woman who didn't want help." Rose heard the anger rising in her voice, but she extinguished it immediately. She sighed, and said, "I loved your mother. I loved you. I should have helped. I always felt so guilty for it."

"And now?"

Charlotte didn't speak for a moment. She then said, "You were better off without us." When Rose didn't speak, she went on, "If you'd been brought into this family like you were supposed to, he would've just controlled you too. I'm sure he told you when he went to see you. You would've been another little trophy he could reward a business partner with…just like me."

"Really?"

"I was the pretty one. Nancy was the wild one," she said, "In her youth anyways. He always told me he had an easier time giving me away than he did Nancy. No well-born man wants a woman like Nancy, he said." She shook her head, "You would have gotten the same as me. You'd be like all of us; little pawns to use in his game called business."

"And you hate it."

"We're too used to it to hate it," she shrugged. "I keep my girls and my son away from it. He tries interfering every now and again, but I snuff him out right away. He'll have no say in what my children do with their lives. He was just lucky they wanted to go to university."

"Jane's a good singer and so are you," Rose said. "Why didn't you pursue it?"

"You already know that answer," Charlotte said. "I snuck your mother's poems in that file ages ago. I thought if I put them there, he'd find them and remember that he's not the wonderful father he pretends to be. It'd remind him of how he left his daughter and her child to suffer as a punishment for daring to defy him. My father doesn't care about our ambitions. He only cares for his own."

"They were a comfort to me," Rose admitted. "I read them all. She was very talented. Thank you."

Nancy nodded, "When he gave it to you, I hoped they'd be of some comfort. You would know that she wasn't always a meek little woman. She'd been so talented before she met him. She'd read and write all the time. She always kept a little notepad on her and wrote whenever the fancy took her." She smiled fondly, "We'd right songs together sometimes. I don't know if you've seen them or not?"

"I have. I thought they were poems."

"Oh no," she shook her head, "They were songs. Nancy wrote the lyrics and I wrote the melodies. We'd sing them when Dad was out. Mum loved them; so did the boys. He didn't mind it when he found us, but he made it very clear we'd be the nurse and housewife he wanted."

"He's the biggest fake of them all," Rose said. "He proved it to me when he came to the pub I work in."

"You work in a pub?" she asked.

"Yes, I do. It's called The Garrison, it's in Small Heath. I lived above it too." She said this proudly, "I know it's not a fancy assistant job, but it makes me happy."

"Then that's all that matters," Charlotte said. "Plus, Nigel and I can get free drinks now."

They chuckled together. Charlotte then asked, "What brings you all the way out here, love?"

Rose suddenly felt nervous again, but this was her only option. "I'm…I'm sure you know that Richard broke his contract with Tommy."

Charlotte scoffed, plucking a cigarette from a silver case on the table, "That's just like him." She lit the cigarette and offered Rose one, but she declined. "He's always does that when a business partner displeases him. He'll leave them high and dry without giving it a second thought. I've seen Kimber lurking about the house lately," she shivered, "Ugh, he disgusts me."

"Well, this means that both Kimber and Richard have a reason to get at Tommy," she said. "Richard said that Tommy wouldn't be around much longer and Kimber would want to retaliate for Tommy taking away his job. Tommy already plans on taking over Kimber's operations at the race tracks, but now he has to worry about more than just Kimber. He has to worry about Richard coming and backing him up."

Charlotte thought. "You do know Nigel has a lot of muscle behind him because he's the leader of the Blighters now."

"The Blighters?" Rose questioned.

She nodded, "Dad's gang before he became 'legitimate'. Nigel runs it now because Dad sort of dropped them. They'll follow Nigel into anything."

"Tommy says that Nigel might turn on us last minute if he were to help us. Alan too."

Charlotte shook her head, blowing smoke in the other direction "If anyone hates our father, it's definitely Nigel. The only one other than him is Peter. He'll go against him if he thought he had a chance. I can't say the same for Alan. He was Dad's golden boy. They had their spats, but Alan always gave in at the end. Nigel though, oh he'll help you alright." She then perked up, "I can invite Nigel over tomorrow for dinner. You can bring Tommy with you, and they can hash it out together. I'm sure Nigel will bring some of his boys with him, so Tommy can bring whoever he trusts."

Rose sighed. "Tommy won't be happy."

"Why?"

"I don't think he'd like I went behind his back this way," she said, "Especially since he's done so much for me."

"Oh please, you're only helping him," Charlotte said, "Men think they know everything. They're just a bunch of babies in suits."

"He's really helped, you know? In his way," she admitted. "He won't say anything but I think I've helped him too, if only a bit. His family is nothing but wonderful to me."

"Have you slept with him yet?" she smirked raising her eyebrows.

Rose blushed a bright red, smiling and shaking her head, "No. I want to, but no. It's never been the right time for it."

"When is there a right time?" Charlotte asked. "Darling, if you want him then go after him. Don't sit around waiting for him to make the move. You're a woman. You have needs too."

Rose nodded, "How would I do that?"

Charlotte looked her over, "Wear something he'd like on you, whether it's a dress or a perfume or make-up. Whatever it is, put it on. Also, be a little more loose with him; flirty."

Rose then realized she didn't know what Tommy liked. That didn't matter right now.

Charlotte and she spent a good part of the day together. Charlotte showed her more pictures and told her stories from her youth. They'd seemed so close. Charlotte told her she'd even stayed a few days, but went straight back to Eddie when he came begging for her back. She told her it wasn't right or fair for her child, but Nancy insisted she could keep Rose safe.

* * *

Rose went home feeling better about her idea. If Charlotte and Nigel were willing to help, then there was hope for Tommy. His bedroom was empty when she arrived, but that was expected. She changed into her nightdress and grabbed a book. She sat in his bed, covers over the legs as she read by lamplight. She wondered what Tommy liked in his women. They had come close to it once or twice, but his attempts were thwarted each time. She thought of herself coming on to him. The image brought butterflies in her stomach and her cheeks flush. Turning a page, the door opened and Tommy came in, taking off his jacket right away. She beamed at him.

"What have you been up to?" he asked, clipping off his suspenders and unbuttoning his shirt. "I haven't seen you around all day. Harry said you didn't show up at the pub and Polly said you weren't in the shop."

"What? You keep tabs on me now, Tommy?"

"Well, considering a hulking madman is after you," he said, "I get concerned."

"I was visiting Charlotte, if you must know." She put down the book and faced him.

"What for?" he asked, putting his shirt aside and standing in his undershirt and trousers still. "I thought you'd left them behind."

"Remember the idea I had about Richard and Kimber?" she asked.

"Yes…"

"Well, I talked to her about it. She said she and Nigel would definitely help us with it," she told him.

"You did what?"

"I just told you," she said. "She told me that Nigel is the leader of The Blighters, so he has plenty of men to back him up and Charlotte would talk to him for us. We are having dinner tomorrow at her house. You can bring Arthur and Joh-"

"-Rosie…No, Rosie, you didn't," he ran his hands over his face and through his hair. "Why? Why would you do that, Rosie? Why?"

"Because my idea could work," she said, "My theory was right the whole time. They don't like their father always controlling him and if he were out of the way-"

"-Of course they'd tell you that! She told you that because she knew you'd believe her!"

"Don't yell at me," she scolded. "That's not true at all. When I went there to confront them, she was the only one who really looked sorry and cried the most, and I know she'd do anything to make it up to me."

"So that suddenly means everything she says is true? What did you tell her?"

"I only told her about taking over their operations on the racetracks," she said. "I didn't tell her what day or about The Lee family."

"Which means you basically gave her enough time to inform her father and her brothers, so they can get to us first!" she felt his anger. It almost scared her. "Bloody hell, Rose! What the fuck made you think that this was okay to do?! You fucking ruined everything now! I have to…I have to come up with a whole new plan now. I have to start all over again-"

"-Tommy, please," she said, "You don't have to start all over. This will work. I know it will. We can just go there and hear them out. I told you that you could even bring Arthur and John. Maybe with them there you wouldn't be so…"

"'So' what?" he challenged, "'So' what, Rose?" He walked halfway across the room, fists balled up. Her chest became tight, but she stood her ground.

"So paranoid," she finished, "So hyper vigilant. Why is it hard for you to believe someone wants to help you?"

"Because most of the time they're fucking lying," he replied. "Do you not realize what you did by going there? Why did you have to go? I fucking told you not to go."

"I was only trying to help you, Tommy. You don't have to do everything alone."

He began pacing the room. "I don't know how somebody could be so naive. Not even Grace would be stupid enough to do something like that."

 _'_ _You're a stupid girl!'_ she heard Him again. _'A stupid, pathetic little mouse! You need me to protect you!'_

She glared at him, wiping a tear from her cheek, "At least I'm not a coward like her. I didn't abandon you at the first sign of trouble and run away to wherever the hell she went and marry someone else."

"What did you say?"

"I said she's a bloody coward," she replied, "A fake and a liar who hurt you. I don't know why you even care about her. She never would've tried helping you because she's selfish and cold. But please," she slipped on her heels from the side of the bed, "Feel free to go crawling back to her if you're so in love with her."

"Rose, please," he sounded annoyed than hurt.

"No, don't bother. I was stupid to think I'd ever be good enou-That's not important right now," she said. She grabbed a dress and slipped it on over her nightdress. "Sorry for trying to help you."

"Where are you going?"

"None of your business," she said, walking out the door and downstairs. "You're not my keeper. I can go where I want without having to consult you about it." She picked up her coat from the hanger by the door.

He followed her down the stairs, "Rose, it's freezing out there."

"I don't care," she opened the door, feel a gust of wind hit her legs right away, "I'll come back when you're done being such an ass."

It truly was cold, but she didn't care. She was used to the cold. Rose walked to the home of the only man she trusted anymore. Harry. She knocked on his door late at night, feeling quite guilty for waking him. He didn't mind in the slightest. She slept in the extra bedroom that night. Once Harry left her to sleep, she breathed out all the nerves within her. She'd felt scared. She'd felt angry with him. He hadn't even come after her. Why would he? He obviously thought she was a naïve, stupid girl like everyone else. She wasn't cunning or clever like Grace. She was just a woman who didn't know any better.


	29. Chapter 29

She wasn't at The Garrison. She wasn't at the soup kitchen. She wasn't in his room or in the house at all. He even checked the bookstore, and she hadn't been there in days. Tommy worried for her. What if something happened to her on her way to wherever she'd gone? What if **he** found her and she's lying in a gutter somewhere? Polly told him if she had been someone would've found her by now. It didn't stop him from thinking of her bloody, bruised and broken. When he spoke with Jeremiah, he'd told him the man was indeed in Small Heath. He was holed up in some brothel at the edge of town. When not cavorting with whores, he was wasting his money on booze. Jeremiah didn't believe this man would be sober enough to go after Rose. Tommy ordered him to keep an eye out anyways.

He'd been far too upset to go after her, and he knew she wouldn't let him. He should've known better than to bring Grace into the conversation. Tommy had gone too far with that. He never meant it. He'd spoken out of anger. Surely she knew that? She must know he'd never intentionally hurt her.

He sat in the shop before they opened up for their customers. Since the split from the Westons, they'd gone back to their bookmaking. The work wasn't good enough for him anymore. He'd gotten used to the pitches and the money they raked in from them. His family business had potential. They only needed to seize their chance, and Billy Kimber's slacking operations was his chance. With Richard's men backing him, Tommy wasn't sure if Black Star was the day for it. Richard would be expecting that sort of attack there. He'd probably have his men watch out for the Lees, and Kimber will come for Tommy here. Now that Charlotte and Nigel know, it might even come sooner. They'd have to be ready if that were to ever happen.

Then there was Campbell. He'd given up his search of Freddie, which was good news for Ada. However, he turned his search to the guns. Tommy knew Campbell could not go the Churchill again with them. Danny told him word was getting around in London that the Peaky Blinders had something certain political groups might want. It was only a matter of time before someone came asking for them. Campbell would be on the lookout for the first sign of trouble. He might even come after Tommy directly now, especially if he learned his wife had tried seducing the information out of him.

Grace. Rose implied that he held feelings for her. Polly said the same once. She said if it'd been anyone else, they would be dead by now. She knew too much about their business. She knew their weak spots. The fact she'd married a chief inspector didn't help either. He was sure she'd told him something about their dealings; it's how he knew about it all in the first place. What really bothered him, though he never said, was Rose. She thought she wasn't as good as Grace; that Tommy would never love her as deeply. She was wrong, and he wanted to tell her that. He hoped she came home soon.

Rose planned a dinner with Charlotte and Nigel. He'd considered going after Rose stormed out. If it were an ambush, he'd have his brothers there at least. Rose was so determined and confident her plan would work. She didn't concern herself with the other possible angles. She was too trusting. She always trusted in people to do the right thing, but Tommy knew better. He hated to be there the day Rose finally learned that. She knew the Westons weren't as wonderful as they appeared, yet made a deal with them. They'd betrayed her and her mother. What inclined her to ask for their help? Didn't it even occur to her that it might be a trap? The past didn't matter. The past is the past. The present is what she should take into consideration.

"Hello there, Tommy."

Tommy turned his head to the door and saw Nigel. Nigel didn't dress like his father. He didn't even dress like a high class man or a man of proper station. He dressed like a dock worker: salt stained trousers, muddy boots, loose shirt rolled to his elbows and a vest. Tommy noted the bruised knuckles and cut on his cheek. Nigel Weston was a regular fighter in the fighting rings. Unlike his father, Nigel made his money the 'gang' way. Fighting rings, gambling dens, brothels and smuggling were Nigel's illegal activities of choice. The Blighters were big in London. They were also rowdy and tough.

"Nigel," he said. Nigel wasn't with any of his men. He stood alone, walking into the shop at the greeting.

"I was told you would be here at this time," he said.

"By who?"

"Rosie," he answered.

"Rose?" Tommy stood up, "You know where she is?"

"Aye, I do," he nodded. "She came early and saw me at the docks. She told me about your plans for Kimber and my dear 'ol dad over breakfast."

Tommy felt relieved. At least she wasn't among enemies. "What else did she tell you?"

"That you could use some muscle when the day came," he continued. He came closer to the table where Tommy sat, "My sister planned some sort of fancy dinner for us to talk this all out. I don't know about you, but fancy dinners aren't my thing. I like to talk business over whiskey." He sat in front of Tommy, "And absent opinionated women like my sister."

"Is that why you're here?"

"Exactly why I'm here," he said. "Rosie says you plan to take out Kimber. That's all good and well," he poured a whiskey for himself and then for Tommy, "I don't mind that bit. I bloody hate Kimber and all his men. As for Dad, there's the complication."

"Because he's your father, you're obligated to tell him about it."

Nigel scoffed, lifting his whiskey for a gulp, "No. I keep things from him all the time. Do you think a man like him would approve of fighting clubs and brothels? If he knew about them, he'd milk out all the money my men make for themselves. He's a greedy old man who's at the end of his life. Literally."

"Literally?"

"Yeah," he said, "Dad's sick. I mean, he ain't dying any time in the next few days, but he ain't as strong as he used to be. Why do you think he's got so many men around him? He's got a bad heart and weak knees. He's already had one heart attack. Lord knows what would happen if he got into an actual fight." He finished his whiskey and said, "Rose tells me you think we'll turn on you; go behind your back."

"Why wouldn't you?" he asked. "He's your father. Why would you ever hurt him?"

"Do you have any idea what that man's like?" he said. "He left his own daughter in the hands of a monster just because she dared defy him. You think a man with so much power would've forced her to stay home with us." He sat back in his seat, "Men like Eddie are direct in their cruelty. Some are less obvious."

"So, this is because of Rose's mother?"

"Not just Nance," he said, "For the rest of us. Mum's terrified of him. Alan's his lap dog. Nancy and Charlotte were just things he could give away. I was his muscle. You don't have such a great relationship with your dad either."

"How would you know?"

"Well from the fact that I knew him," he said, "And one of my men was there the day Rose's apartment caught fire. He said you were going to kill him. What happened, boy? Lost your nerve?"

"I left his death to someone bigger than me," Tommy answered, taking out a cigarette for a smoke. "You?"

"Kill my father? Oh, I never said anything about killing him," Nigel said. "Now, if he happens to get shot during the fight or have a bloody heart attack, that's on him. I'm only supplying the men for you."

"You won't be there yourself?"

"Nah," he said. "I'll be with the others at Black Star."

Tommy took a drag from his cigarette, "How do you know about Black Star?"

"Rosie gave me the details," he said. "I'll go with some men to Black Star, rough up Kimber and Dad's me as a distraction while you take out Billy Kimber personally."

"I have the Lee family on that. I'll need you and your men here."

"You got the gypsies working with you? Thought you lot hated each other."

Tommy drank his whiskey, and then said, "We made a truce. John married one of theirs and now we're kin."

"And they wouldn't hurt their own kin," he said, impressed. "Rosie was right. You are a smart one."

The two men talked the rest of the business over the whiskey. Nigel agreed he'd run their contraband again for a larger cut than before for him and his gang. Tommy agreed he'd give a portion of his territory over to The Blighters for their fighting rings and brothels in exchange for a regular fee. The gambling den was in full swing by the time Nigel took up his jacket and prepared to leave. He stopped, however, when he spotted someone in the shop.

"Pollyanna Shelby," Nigel said, a wide smile on his face.

Polly turned her head and shared the same smile. Tommy hinted a glint of fondness in her eyes. He watched the two of them hug. "How are you, Nigel?" she asked.

"Eh, been better. Just came by to talk with your nephew," he said, nodding to Tommy. "He's more like his granddad than his father."

"Isn't that true?" Polly smiled.

"How've you been, Polly? You look wonderful."

Was this man _flirting_ with his aunt? Tommy did not stick around for an answer. He left the two friends to catch up and began overseeing the shop. Rose still hadn't returned by nightfall. He imagined she'd be in The Garrison now that evening shift began. Walking into the pub, he looked around for her. Instead, he only found drunks, prostitutes, and Harry serving them all. Tommy approached the bar and put his hat down. Harry served him his whiskey and left the bottle.

"Rose isn't back then?" he asked Harry.

"No," Harry shook his head, "I thought she'd be here by now, but she hasn't come by." He saw the worry in Harry's face. It explained why Rose would go to him after their fight. He cared for her without any reason or motive behind it. She could trust him. "Mr. Shelby, you don't think…"

"I don't know, Harry," he said. He hoped the worst hadn't happened. Tommy double checked all the usual places, and she hadn't been seen. Nigel mentioned her going to see him, but where would she go after? Maybe Charlotte's? He had no idea where that was. What if something terrible happened between here and there or vise versa. Tommy would wait all night if that's what it took.

A man walked up to him and stood by him at the bar. "Mr. Shelby?" he asked.

"Who's asking?"

"My name's Byrne," he said. "Your man in Camden Town says you want a parley."

Yes, he did. One of men stabbed one of Byrne's men, which turned out to be his cousin, and now it brought about a possible war between them and the want-to-be IRA. Tommy told Danny to go down to Camden Town and ask to speak with their leader. Tommy wished he'd come on a less eventful day. "Then parley it is," he said.

"A few months ago a man named Ryan came here looking to buy some good from you," he began. "Mr. Ryan had an accident. He got shot."

"I heard."

"He was a man with a quick mouth," the Irishman said, "I know that. I wondered if he made any enemies in here, maybe someone from your gang?"

"If it were one of my men, I would've known. He made no enemies in here is all I can tell you."

"Not the kind of place to make enemies, eh?" he smirked.

"All are welcome here, Mr. Byrne," he said.

"Even Irish?"

"Oh, especially Irish," he replied.

"Ryan told you he was a member of the Irish Republican Army." Tommy remembered this detail specifically. Mr. Ryan and one of his men did come to The Garrison asking about the guns, but Tommy told them he didn't have them. They hadn't believed him, yet they left peacefully. The Blinder who shot Mr. Ryan told Tommy they got into it on the man's way back to The Black Swan. He said a scuffle happened and Mr. Ryan got shot. "Was he still welcome?"

"Like I said, anyone who buys beer is welcome here," he said. The Blinder told him it'd been his dislike of the IRA. Not for political reasons, but personal ones. He claimed it was the IRA who'd done his father in before they came to England.

"Perhaps you didn't believe him," Byrne said.

Tommy faced him. He wasn't in the mood for this. He thought of his petal, alone somewhere in the cold and scared. No. Rose wouldn't be scared. Not anymore. "In pubs, sometimes people say things; sometimes it's a whiskey talking. It's hard to tell which is which."

"As a teetotal man, I find that amusing," Byrne said, "Except when it ends in tragedy."

"Would you like some water and cordial, Mr. Byrne?" Tommy asked.

"You see, Mr. Shelby, Ryan for all his quick mouth, was indeed connected. Very well connected to our brotherhood by membership and blood. He was my cousin. I am from South Armagh. I'm a man of influence there. Cordial and water would be grand, Mr. Shelby."

Tommy stared at him. He couldn't give the boy's name to this man. He might've been hasty and hot-headed, but nothing worth being killed over. It was a tussle between men and Mr. Ryan happened to lose. "Harry, bring some cordial and water and bring it to the snug. This way."

The two men walked to the private room and Tommy closed the door. Rose was out there somewhere right now. He should be looking for her, but instead he was stuck with a bloody Irishman. "My cousin came here to buy guns," Byrne said.

"And I told him I have none," Tommy said.

He smiled amusedly, "Your man, Danny Owen, talks a lot when he's drunk. He says the Peaky Blinders do have the guns, robbed from the factory down the road. He boasts about a stack of Lewis machine guns and enough ammunition to hold up God's trousers."

"Yep," Tommy said, "That sounds like our Danny. He has an imagination. Like I say, sometimes it's the whiskey that does the talking."

"He says only the brothers know where the guns are kept."

"Well, Danny also says he sees German infantrymen on the back of milk carts," Tommy defended, "And he shoots them with his broomstick."

"We have men in the BSA factory," he said, "And they say it's you who has them." He took a drink of the cordial and water Harry brought in and then said, "And we have men who work in the police station. Every finger, Mr. Shelby, every finger in this city points to you. Please don't mistake me for a fool." He downed the rest of his drink and then said, "Let me get to the point. I don't care what kind of half-arsed tinker operation you have going here, but I can assure you I represent a very different kind of organization." He stood up, "My cousin was shot. I am judge, jury and executioner. You are guilty and I pass sentence. You deliver the guns to me, or I will deliver to you death and hell's fury to you and your little tribe of heathens. Such as that pretty girl of yours. It'd be a bloody shame if something terrible happened to her because her boyfriend wouldn't give me my guns. Am I making myself clear?"

Tommy wanted to kill him He wanted to grab his hat and slice his blades across this man's eyes. He couldn't stop himself from imaging the IRA taking his petal over a dumb squabble.

"We didn't kill your cousin because of the guns," he admitted. "Your cousin's quick mouth is what got him killed. My man tells me he and your cousin got into an argument, and a shot went off. So let me confess something to you, and only you: I have the guns, and they've become a burden to me. Perhaps it is time to unburden them for the right price."

Mr. Byrne sat back down and agreed to a deal. He'd come tomorrow morning with his men and give Tommy the money in exchange for the location of his guns. As Mr. Byrne made his leave, Tommy told him one more thing.

"Mr. Byrne," he said. He looked at him from his seat, cigarette in his hand and eyes fixed on him, "One more thing: You threaten my girl again and my blade will turn you blind."

Mr. Byrne only sneered as he closed the door. Tommy couldn't stop the visions of Rose being held somewhere by men who would hurt her. He left the pub some time later, hoping against hope that Rose was home now. He walked up to his bedroom once he came home, and opened the door.

She was in nothing but her small clothes. She'd been taking off her chemise with he entered, staying in her bra, underwear and stockings. He confessed he was tantalized by her for a moment. She'd taken her hair out of its usual braid, letting it tumble down her back. She merely looked back at him with indifference before continuing undressing.

"Where did you go?" he asked. "Do you know I've been worried sick about you?"

"Didn't seem very worried," she said, "Considering you've been handling business all day."

"I spent all morning looking for you," he said. "Your uncle came to me and we talked business here instead of at that dinner you'd planned."

"And?" she turned and looked at him, "What happened? Did you sit there and tell him what a bad idea it was too?" She untied her bra, letting it drop on a chair. She kept her back to him, but he couldn't stop staring either way.

He sighed, defeated. "You were right."

"I'm sorry? I didn't catch that."

"You were right, Rosie," he said. "It can be done and Nigel will help. We-We struck up a deal that turns out good for us both in the end."

"And, of course, when I proposed it you shot it down immediately," she said. She unclasped her garter belts. He truly hoped she didn't pull down her knickers. Not right now. "I bet if oh-so-clever Grace told you about it, you would've loved it right away."

"That's not true, Rose." He should have known she'd bring it up. "Rose, I didn't mean the things I said. I was-I was…"

"A complete ass," she finished.

"Yes, I was," he nodded. She took off the garters completely, leaving on only her underwear and stockings. He pulled off his jacket, putting it on a hanger in his closet. "Where did you go?"

"Harry's place. He let me stay there."

"He said you'd gone by the time he woke up," he said. "Where did you go after?"

"To the docks where I talked with Nigel," she replied. "He didn't tell you?"

"He mentioned it. I didn't think you'd go in a dress pulled over your night dress."

"He didn't mind," she said, "And neither did I." She started carefully slipping off her stockings, which drew his attention to her thighs and legs. Rose looked over at him, her profile doing nothing to keep her breasts shielded from him, "It-It just hurts that you think so little of my ideas. Nigel said it was a good one. He said it could work with good timing and keeping things quiet. I don't know why you don't trust me. I trust you."

"I know." To be honest, there was only one reason he could think of and he didn't dare say it out loud. "Rose, it was just a bit risky. What if we were wrong? What if you were wrong about them? We'd all be in danger."

"Well, isn't this life full of risks?" she said. "Like how risky it is being the ex-lover of the Chief Inspector's wife. I'm pretty sure he doesn't know, but imagine what he'd do if he found out she was still in love with you."

"She's not in love with me, Rose. She just likes playing-"

"-Oh yes she is. Why else would she come here? You'd think considering all the bad blood between your family and her, she'd stay away. She could've stayed in her comfy little home back in Belfast, but instead she comes here. Why would she do that? Hm? Because she thinks she could get you back." She pulled off one stocking and started the other.

"Oh Rosie," he shook his head, "That's never going to happen."

"She certainly thinks it does," she said.

"Well, it won't." He watched her take off her other stocking with ease. Rose turned to him in only her underwear now. She drove him mad in more ways than she intended. His eyes scanned her body, taking in each curve. "Rosie," he coughed, "You should put on your nightdress."

She looked down at herself as if she just noticed her nudity. "Why?" she asked, "What if I like being naked?"

"It's distracting."

"To who? You? That's typical, isn't it?"

He gently took her hand and brought her close. He ignored how good she felt against him. Hands on her cheeks, he looked into her eyes, "I think you're brilliant. I think you're bright and clever. You're determined and stubborn, and I love you for that. I love everything about you. I love _you_ , Rose."

He kissed her, but she pulled away. "You can't just start a fight with me and then think you can make it better by claiming you love me and kiss me like it's all okay now. You said things that really hurt me Tommy. You scared me. You were so unfair to me for no reason. You barely even heard me out; you shot me down. Don't act like you were thinking of me. You were thinking of you and your business and your ambitions. You were worried about having to think of something else because stupid little Rosie fucked it up for you. Then you bring up how much smarter Grace would've been about it than me. Didn't you even think of how much it hurt at all? Did you ever consider my feelings ever?"

He didn't know how to answer. She was right. "You're right," he said, "I never meant to scare or hurt you, Rosie. You know I wouldn't-"

"-But you did, didn't you?"

"I was just upset-"

"-And so was I-"

"-And I should trust you, but that doesn't come to me the way it does for you. I'm sorry I didn't trust your instincts. I'm sorry I didn't take you seriously. I'm sorry I didn't look into it myself like I should have. I'm sorry I frightened you. I promise it won't happen anymore. I promise you that." He rubbed her cheek. She felt cold still from being outside. He thought of a way of warming her up.

"That's what all men tell me, and then they break my heart."

"I won't," he said. "I won't do that to you. I promise." He looked over her face. "When we first met, you were this frail little thing who barely spoke. Now, you're the only person who fights with me," he almost laughed.

"Because somebody has to," she replied. She put her hands on his chest, "I suppose I could forgive you."

"You suppose?"

"Well, you have to make it up to me."

His hands traveled down to the small of her back, his lips brushing her ear and her neck. "And how would I do that?" he asked, lightly kissing to her shoulder.

He'd never seen that glint in her eye before. She'd always been so shy and so giggly whenever he proposed sex. She was the one who walked him backwards towards the bed. She pushed him onto it and straddled him. Rose made all the moves he never expected, but certainly had no complaints. Tommy would spend the whole night making it up to her if she asked. She was heaven to him, a paradise he never wanted escape from. She carefully removed every item of clothing he wore while he kissed her passionately. He kissed her wherever she let him, and touched her everywhere. Her moans and his groans mingled together. They tangled in the sheets as they rolled around and the bed creaked in time with them. He'd waited so long for her. The end made it worth the wait.

 **A/N: I know the part with Byrne is like identical to the show, but it's the only time that'll happen. Promise.**


	30. Chapter 30

The night before and the morning after were all Rose thought of the next day. She'd never been touched so gently before or given so much attention. He was perfect. His slight but strong body did so much for her. She felt so safe with him. Tommy promised she'd always be safe with him. She was certain Polly heard them, as well as Finn and Arthur who lived there still. Polly smirked at her over breakfast, but said nothing about it. Instead, Rose brought up her uncle.

"Polly?" she asked, spreading jam on her toast, "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," Polly nodded.

"Did you and my uncle ever-you know-have a thing?"

Polly looked over at her right away. She hesitated, "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean," Rose said, "Did you two ever have something? He talks very fondly of you, and I heard he stayed a bit after his meeting to catch up with you."

"And that's what it was," she nodded, "Old friends catching up. I knew Nigel when we were young. He'd come by whenever his father had business with mine. Back then I wasn't married and neither was he."

"But your husband left and my aunt died a few years ago," Rose said. "I don't mean anything by it. I was only curious. If you two weren't together, the affection is certainly one-sided."

Polly smiled to herself. She then said, "He used to bring me flowers. All kinds. He'd give them to me whenever he dropped by. The boys were smaller then, so they don't really remember. He'd pretend they were from his father or he was chancing by a flower shop when he found them. I saw through it right away. I think that's what he liked about me: I wasn't stomping over other girls for his attention."

"He married someone else though."

"Oh yes he did and so did I. It was young infatuation; nothing more."

Rose beamed, "Maybe now it could become more?"

Polly laughed, "Oh no. Nigel and I are only friends now. Any chance of an 'us' is far gone now."

Rose didn't say anything else about it. Nigel said he'd admired Polly for her tough-as-nails attitude and brilliance. He also mentioned something about her laugh, but he quickly changed the subject. Rose thought the match would be sweet, but she wouldn't intervene in that. Polly then went out for some shopping; Finn kissed Rosie's cheek and said he was going outside. Rose planned on heading for the pub, getting her coat off the rack. It'd be easier going through the shop door than the front, since then she'd be walking all the way around. Buttoning up her coat, she looked for her purse everywhere in the dining room. She thought she might've left it upstairs, but that couldn't be. She was sure she'd brought it down with her. Rose walked into the empty gambling den where she found her purse sitting on one of the tables.

"I knew you'd fucking be here."

The voice struck fear into her right away. She'd never thought she'd hear it again so clear and venomous. Rose tried catching her breath through her dry windpipe, and clenched her shaking hands into fists. Her whole body went numb. Her fingertips and toes felt tingly; a cold sweat crept over her body. She was in a nightmare surely. He couldn't be here. No. Her knees felt weak, but it didn't stop her from turning to face Him.

He looked terrible as always. Eyes bloodshot from a late night, nostrils flared, he glared at her. He still wore his dirty overalls with a tight fitting undershirt, the silver flask she knew so well hanging inside the front pocket on his chest. She held onto the table behind her. Instinctively, her body tried moving away from him. It didn't matter about the table or the wall blocking her way. She wanted to be as far away as possible. She was the girl in the basement; the frightened little mouse that cowered in fear of him. Rose felt her heart pounding her chest now.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" she asked.

"How dare you fucking run out on me," he growled. "You would abandon your own father and leave him for some bloody criminal that don't pay you any mind. You stupid girl. You always needed me to protect you."

"I don-don't need you," she said. "The only person I need protection fr-from is you. You killed her, but I wo-won't let you kill me."

"Your mother had it coming," he said. His steps thumped the ground audibly. She held back her scream. "And so do you. Come on, girl. I'm taking you home where you belong." He grabbed hold of her arm, squeezing it as he dragged her. "I'll stick you down in the basement and let you stay there until you learned your place again."

"No! No! You won't take me back! I'll never go back there again!" she shouted. "I'll run away again! You will never own me again!"

"The hell you will!" he spat. "You're my daughter! My property! You will do what I say!"

She used all her strength to break his grip. Rose then kicked him in his bad knee, listening to him howl as she scurried away towards her purse. However, before she could reach the small handbag, he grabbed her ankle. Rose fell to the floor in a thud, and he pulled her to him across the floor. Underneath him, the stink of alcohol and sweat filled the air. She nearly choked on it. The first punch hurt just as much as she remembered. His fat fist landed on her nose and broke it. The second broke her bottom lip and she could taste blood. His knee kept her in place as he dealt blow after blow. Her cheekbone, her jaw, anything he could lay his fist on felt his fury. She tried hitting him back, dealing a punch to his own face. However, this only enraged him. He took hold of her hand, taking her finger in his hand and bending it till it broke. She screamed at the pain jolting through her body. Rose's head felt light and dizzy. He stood over her once she no longer struggled. Her stomach lurched from a swift kick, and her ribs ached from another kick. Rose could not let him take her away. She wouldn't go anywhere with him. Pain dulled her body. Her arms hurt from pounding on his broad chest and her legs gave out on her.

"You're just like your fucking mother! Always disobeying me!" he said, "But you'll learn soon enough! This time I'll chain your skinny ankles too, miserable little rat!"

Rose groaned, rolling over onto her aching stomach. She spat blood from her mouth, a tooth falling out with it. She felt the sting of a missing tooth, but she ignored the sensation. Her father continued ranting as he did after a beating. She crawled to the table where her purse was sitting.

"Where are you off to?!" he grunted, pulling her back a little ways from the table. He grabbed her hair and hit her head against the floor. Nothing cracked, but it certainly didn't ease the oncoming headache. "This Tommy Shelby you've been hanging around with won't miss you," he grunted, "He's got another girl already lined up after you. A pretty blond Irish girl. He'll like her far better than you."

He knocked her head against the leg of the table, which caused her purse to fall on her bloody face. Her father didn't think much of this, but Rose felt the weight of her gun hit her. He grabbed her by the jaw and forced her to face him. "You belong to me. I had you first and I'll keep having you, you fucking slut," he sneered.

Rose felt for the purse as he continued talking to her. Her stomach would've bubbled if it didn't ache so much. She felt the velvet against her fingertips, and then the gold clasp keeping it closed. She forced it open with two fingers. The satin lining touched her fingers and soon the cold steel of her gun.

"You are nothing without me! You understand, girl?! Nothing!" he screamed.

"I-I-I a-am som-someone," she said, blood spattering from her mouth, "And I'm n-not going back with you."

She quickly grabbed her gun and held it to his throat. Cocked and loaded, she pulled the trigger. Her ears rang from the blast, and blocked out his gurgling for a moment. His blood washed over her front like water from her faucet. It was warm, sticky and stained her skin and coat. She could taste the bit that fell on her chin. Rose pushed him off her. Rage filled her now. She remembered every bad thing he ever did to her. She could imagine the things he would've continued doing. She saw him stealing her body, her voice and her mind. Tears watered her eyes thinking of him beating her beautiful mother; taking away who she was little by little until she was only a shell. She'd deserved more; they both did. Rose was robbed of a mother and her freedom.

"You bastard!" she shrieked. BANG! "You took her! You took her from me!" BANG! BANG! "You killed her!" BANG! BANG! This wasn't enough. It would never be enough. Lifting the end of the pistol, she slammed it down into his face, not worried about the blood splattering her own. Broken and bleeding, her white and gold pistol became stained by blood. "I hate you! I hate you! I. HATE. YOU!" Her sobs twisted with her rage. She stopped hitting him after a few more blows. She sunk to the floor, her back against a table leg as hard sobs cracked her throat. All her anguish came through each cry. She nearly screamed.

"Rose?! Rosie?!"

John rushed in through the shop door, worry on his face. He froze once he saw Rose's father on the floor and Rose next to him, crying and covered in blood. She didn't stop. Not for one second did she care about John's dropped jaw and wide-eyes. He inched over to her, bending down next to her. She clutched the gun in her hand no matter how much her broken finger ached. She could only feel anger and pain. Rose looked over and saw the cracks in his skull and blood pouring from his wounds. He was dead. He was gone. He could never hurt her again. She couldn't believe it even as she looked on him. It sounded too good to be true. It sounded unreal like a dream-or a nightmare-she'd never escape. John touched her hand, gently wrapped his hand around hers.

"Rose," he said carefully, "Give me the gun. Rose, just hand it over. There you go. That's it. You're okay now. It's alright."

"He came for me, John," she said. "He tried taking me away, but-but I wouldn't let him. I wouldn't let him shut me in again. Never. I will never go back there."

"And you're going back ever," he affirmed. "You're okay here."

"He killed my mother, John. He killed my mother and got away with it," she turned to him, "But I punished him. I gave him the punishment he deserved."

"You did," he nodded, "Yeah, you did. He's not coming back after that beating. Come on. Let's get you cleaned up."

She stood on shaky legs as another person came in. Polly hurried into the shop with Finn at her heels. She gasped at the sight of Rose. "I heard the gunfire," she explained, "I came running back when I heard it." She looked over Rose's shoulder and then back at Rose. She touched her arms tenderly. She didn't ask 'are you okay?' she already knew the answer. Rose shook and continued crying. She couldn't stop even if she'd wanted to. All those years of suffering crawled into her memory and made everything worse.

Polly led her upstairs, drawing a hot bath for her while she undressed with unstable hands. Left alone in her tub, Rose scrubbed his blood from her face. She was careful with her nose and finger, but mostly watched the soapy water become tinged with red. Rose wondered if her mother ever felt the same agony during her baths. How many times did she sit and cry in the water? How would she have comforted Rose on those nights she was allowed a bath? Nobody disturbed Rose during her bath. She stayed in there even after the water grew cold. One person eventually did come in.

"Rose," Tommy looked down at her, "Get out of the tub, petal. Let me dry you." She shook her head, not looking at him. "Petal, please," he kissed her temple, "You have blood in your hair," he noted. He grabbed a rag and ran it through the strands sprayed in drops of blood. Tommy touched the cold cloth to her swelling eye and the bruises on her torso. "John and some of the boys put him on a truck. They'll throw him in the canal while Polly cleans the floor. Get out of the water, Rosie. You're shivering."

"A cold isn't the worst thing I've had," she said. Her jaw clicked painfully as she spoke. "She sent him after me."

"Who?"

"Grace. He mentioned a pretty Irish blond. Why else would he say that if she hadn't told him anything?" she looked at him, "What kind of person does something like that? Why would she do that?"

Her pain paralyzed her. She could barely concentrate on anything but the echoing screams and memories in her mind. Tommy kept wetting the cloth in the cold water and placing it on her face. He eventually lifted her up out of the water, where she quaked in the cold. He helped her get dry, slipping her into her night dress before she settled into bed. Polly came into the room, making a cast of sticks and tape for her finger and straightened her broken nose. She didn't speak, mostly because it hurt anyways.

 _'_ _He's gone. He can't hurt me anymore.'_

Then why was she still shaking?

* * *

He watched her sleep. His eyes looked over the broken face and body of his little petal. His heart ached seeing her this way. She didn't deserve this. Everyone came by for her. Ada insisted on coming by despite being cautioned otherwise; Harry came by at night to watch her for Tommy. Finn would as if Rosie was going to live, and Polly changed her bandages. He'd told Charlotte about the incident, and she came rushing to the house. She wasn't sorry Eddie was dead, but she said she'd have the best doctors come within the hour. Her jaw and head wouldn't heal as fast without them.

Lying in his bed with her face bandaged, he knew her recovery would take some time. Her chest rose and fell in every breath. The doctor said she was lucky none of her ribs had broken. She did have two large purple bruises on her stomach. He'd given her a bottle of morphine for her pain and opium to help her sleep. Tommy held the pipe for her himself. Rose mostly slept, but when she did wake, she said nothing. The only thing he could think of was Grace. If he hadn't hated her before, he certainly did now. What did she think she'd accomplish by hurting Rose? He couldn't believe the nerve of her. He would go after her if it weren't for the fact she'd married a Chief Inspector. Anyone who harmed Campbell's wife would end up hanging. After his meeting with Campbell, he'd certainly pay her a visit.

Picking up his jacket and kissing Rose's forehead, he made his way towards Chinatown. Campbell and he decided they'd met on neutral grounds rather than on police or Blinder territory. Tommy couldn't afford to think of Rose or Grace right now. He kept his focus on the plan. Unfortunately, this plan required some help from Campbell. The IRA wanted their guns? Then they would get them.

He found Campbell by the tailors shop, though it was more than that. The Chinese tailor nodded at Tommy as he came walking through the sheer red curtains that kept them out of view. The lights shining through the fabric gave the two men a red light.

"You said you had some information for me?" Campbell said, getting right down to business.

"I do," he said. He pulled out a wanted flyer Jeremiah had given him. It was a £100 for any of the wanted men depicted on the paper. Tommy pointed at Malachi Byrne as one of the men. "He was in my pub the other day, asking for the guns his cousin wanted to buy from me."

"He's the Chief Commander of the South Armagh IRA," Campbell said. "He's quite a big fish."

"Well, with the guns, who knows what else we'd catch?"

He sniffed at the word 'we'. "As if I'd work with you," he said.

"Clearly, Inspector, it'd be beneficial for both of us," he told him.

The Inspector mulled it over, and then said, "Can you deliver him to me?"

"With your help," he said. "But I want word put out in Ireland that I wasn't involved in this; that the Peaky Blinders had nothing to do with what went on here."

"Ah, so I'd be solving a problem for you," he nodded.

"And you'll be getting that medal," Tommy said.

He laughed, "If I got that medal because of you, I'd hand you my wife."

"Oh trust me Inspector, I don't want your wife."

Campbell paused. He examined Tommy for a moment before saying, "I've gotten word from some of my men that you and my wife are acquainted with one another. Is that true?"

 _'_ _She never told him.'_ Tommy wasn't surprised. "It is," he said, "But it was a long time ago. She married you; not me."

Campbell didn't seem convinced. "You got yourself quite a pretty one," he said, "I heard she recently ended up in a bad way. Something about a big man coming to see her and ending up in the canal a few hours later."

"I don't know what you're talking about. My Rosie wouldn't hurt a fly."

"No, but you would."

Yes. Yes, he would.


	31. Chapter 31

They lived in a lovely home. He looked over the nice white flowers in the window planter and the iron fence around the bushes. Honestly, he shouldn't have been surprised. Grace liked nice things. He stared around at the rest of the street. Tommy liked the look of uptown ever since he was a boy. He'd see their brick homes with white windows, perfectly lain pavement instead of mud, and there weren't any factories adding smoke and smog to the air. Tommy didn't come to uptown often, yet the one time he did, he wanted to stay. He wished he were one of them. He always promised himself that one day he'd live amongst them. They were richer than him. They sat in luxury and comfort while his family did what they could to get by. He hated them. He envisioned himself living the same way and it ached. He saw himself and his family being just as good, maybe even better, than these people.

Grace never lived like him. Even they were young, she could run around with him in the slums, and then go back to her comfortable home. Grace didn't scrimp or save. Not once did she go hungry. Her father wasn't a drunk or a thief, and her mother still lived. They gave her whatever she asked without question or worry. Tommy remembered how Ada envied her nice dresses and pretty shoes. Polly scoffed once when she talked about getting a place in Small Heath, as if it'd make her one of them. At the end of the day, she was a rich, posh girl who liked pretending otherwise. She rebelled against her family's traditional ways by hanging around him. Her parents never approved of him or the lifestyle he lived; not that he cared. They claimed he'd influenced their daughter when in fact they'd been wrong. He saw that now. She only stayed with him as an insult to them; to say she wouldn't be what they wanted. Yet, here she lived with a man who adored and fawned over her. He supposed they won out.

Tommy walked up the steps to their front door, and rang the doorbell. He didn't feel an inch of anxiousness. He only felt anger. He thought of Rose lying in the hospital, still recovering from her injuries. The doctor said the jaw surgery had been successful, and she'd recover in a month or two. Her bruises faded from purple to yellow. He still gave her opium. The reason she lay in such terrible conditions is because of the woman behind this door. Grace might be manipulative and arrogant, but he'd never thought she'd be so cruel. He tried hoping perhaps she hadn't known about Rose's father. How could she? She hadn't given Rose a second thought.

 _'_ _A simple little farm girl,'_ she'd said.

Today she'd be the simple one. Tommy would make sure of it. Being the wife of a Chief Inspector gave her more protection than she deserved. He knew if he harmed her, she'd go running to her husband, who would surely hunt him down. He'd end up swinging if he killed her. Yet, there were other ways of hurting someone.

"Tommy," Grace answered the door in a peach dress that flowed about her knees, "I wasn't expecting you."

"I was walking past and I thought I'd drop in," he said. "Mind if I…?

"Not at all," she grinned, letting him into her home.

They lived just as well as he imagined. Spacious and refined, he pictured Campbell sitting by the fire with the newspaper and his damn tobacco pipe while Grace served him tea. She could play any role needed. With Campbell, trophy wife was best. He tucked his cap into his pocket as she led him into the living room.

"Tea?" she asked, "I have some whiskey left somewhere if you prefer that."

"No, I didn't come for a drink," he said.

"So, you did come here for something," she said, smirking at him, "So much for passing by."

It would've been the perfect cover. Tommy could've brought her close, holding her to him while he pushed hair from her face, and then stabbed her with the letter opener on the side table. He thought about strangling her with his bare hands. Tommy never wanted to hurt a woman. It wasn't his way. Unfortunately for him, Grace had the law on her side, which left him frustrated. It also wouldn't help his problem with the IRA if he killed Campbell's wife.

Unless Campbell was unhappy with his doting wife. Tommy looked about the room and searched for it.

"Yes," he said, "For you."

She walked up to him. She didn't touch him, and he was glad she didn't. He didn't know what he'd do if she did. "He's been talking about you since yesterday," she said. "He says that you two are working together now."

"For the time being," he replied.

"He told me you met with a chief commander of the IRA," she continued, "And that you two had something cooked up."

"Is it normal for Chief Inspectors to tell their wives everything?" he asked. He took a seat on the sofa and she sat beside him. She scooted closer to him, his arm on the back of the sofa. Perfect. Perfect, perfect, perfect. His eyes glimpsed over the coffee table. A crystal ashtray sat in between the stack of magazines and a newspaper. Sprinkled with black tobacco ash, he imagined how Campbell would feel seeing a cigarette in there.

"No," she shook her head, "But Chester does. He trusts me."

"Well, that's a mistake, isn't it?"

She came closer, the smirk fading from her face, "I told you I was sorry. I'm sure you trust your little farm girl just as much, don't you?"

"I do," he told her, "And she's proven…well, she's learning still."

"Learning what?"

"The ropes, you know," he said, letting her fingers trail up his thigh. For once, he felt nothing. He thought of Rose a few nights ago. She'd been so soft and sweet. That night was a million times better than what he imagined. He took out his cigarettes and matches, lighting one right away. He offered Grace one, but she shook her head. "She's new to this. She sometimes lets things slip without realizing it," he lied. "She has all these fanciful ideas that are dangerous."

"Well, farm girls tend to dream big, don't they?"

He snorted, "Isn't that the truth? She can't really hold up in a fight either." He took a drag of his cigarette and tipped the ash into the tray in front of him. "She's so small and mousey. She cowers every time someone even raises their voice."

"Aw, a little lamb," she grinned, "I suppose she thought she could run with big wolves like you."

"She's smart, I'll give her that much," he said, "She's also not too bad looking naked."

Grace's fingers stopped. "Naked?"

He nodded, "She was way too willing. She nearly jumped on me when I asked. Can you blame me? She makes it so easy." He stared around the room for something else. Tommy noticed the decanter on the liquor cabinet halfway full of whiskey. Campbell wouldn't mind if only one glass was used, but two? Yes, it'd be questionable. "She doesn't drink either," he said, "Not whiskey or gin or even beer. She thinks she's above it."

Grace shook her head, "I guess she's disappointing you." She walked towards the cabinet and poured two glasses.

"Can't hold her liquor to save her life," he added. He watched her pour more whiskey in one glass than another. She took the fuller one. Tommy drank some of the whiskey as she sat back down. "She vomited after two glasses."

Grace chuckled over her glass, taking more than she should. She did this back then too. She tried too hard. It was saddening really. "Poor thing," she said, "She couldn't drink you under the table if she tried."

"No," he shook his head, "She ended up under the table."

They both laughed. He finished his drink and set it down. Tommy tipped more ash into the tray, watching the grey cigarette ash cover the black soot. He faked putting his cigarettes back in his pocket, but instead let them fall to the wayside onto the sofa. It would be a flimsy interpretation. The ash could easily come from Grace, or so she would say. The cigarettes, a brand Tommy is known for selling and using himself, would be harder the explain.

Grace ran her hand down his arm, "I missed you, Tommy. I really did. He's nothing like you."

"Let me guess, he's rough and quick, right?"

She nodded, "He's gentle sometimes, but not like you. We've been trying to have a baby, you see, so it's more often than before. He's kind to me. He's never hurt me, but he's not you, Tommy. He's never like you. I love you, Tommy. Not him."

"Then why are you with him?" he asked.

"Because I had no real choice, did I? You were far away and probably hated me," she said. "My family wanted me to marry an upstanding man, and they got what they wanted in Chester."

"So, the rebellious, wild girl came to heel then?"

"I supposed," she bowed her head, playing with the cuff of his sleeve; "It didn't stop me from missing you."

"I-I didn't want to say anything earlier," he said, "Because I was still going after Rose and if she thought I wasn't interested in her, then she'd turn me down, but…"

"But what?" she asked, hope in her eyes.

"But I did miss you." A lie. A big, fat lie. A lie he played well. He cupped her cheek and brushed his thumb over it, "She's nothing like you."

She smiled brightly, "I knew you couldn't possibly like her."

"I never really did," he said. "She's a pretty thing to fuck every so often, but you're-you're much better at it than her." Hearing she was the best always brought a smile on her face.

He brought her close, putting his lips to her neck. Tommy kissed and sucked on her neck. He made sure he left a nice, noticeable red mark when he finished. Grace's hands went into his hair, her sighs filling the room. He thought of Rose and how she sounded when he touched her. She had a little giggle she did every time before she'd gasp. She was ticklish too. She squirmed and laughed every time he touched her sides and nuzzled her neck. It hadn't intentional at first, but he liked it. He felt disgusted doing this to her. He knew she'd be angry if she heard what went on, but hopefully she'd understand. He laid Grace on her back and kissed her deeply. His cologne on the pillows would be suspicious to a jealous man like Campbell. She rolled them over and she straddled him. He pictured Rose instead. He pictured her the entire time.

"Tommy," Grace whispered to him a while later, "You should go. He'll be here soon."

"I don't care," he groaned onto her skin, kissing up her neck to her ear. "I want you," he said as he felt down her dress and up her thighs. "I missed you."

"Tommy," she pulled away from him and looked down regrettably, "Chester will be home soon. I don't think him finding you here would help you."

He sighed disappointedly, "You're right." He put his cigarette butt on the ash tray, and finished his whiskey glass. "I shouldn't have come here," he said. Tommy fixed his hair in place again, "But I'm glad I did."

She smiled, "So am I."

She pecked his lips. He touched the hickey on her neck, "He'll notice that."

"I can cover it up," she said. "He won't suspect anything."

 _'_ _Not without this finishing touch.'_

Grace walked ahead of him towards the door. Tommy dropped his hat and kicked it slightly under the couch. Quickly he took out the one tucked behind him and held it in hand. Campbell would certainly suspect something if he found a hat that might've been left behind in haste. He kissed Grace's cheek when he left, leaving the woman giddy and feeling victorious. Walking back down the road, fixing on his flat cap, Grace falling to the rage of a jealous husband would send her packing back home or worse.

* * *

The surgery had left her in pain. They'd realigned her jaw as best they could, and then fixed bone plates with screws. They'd properly fixed her nose and put a cast over the bridge. Her broken finger had a cast of its own now, and the bruises on her torso cleared away. They kept her on morphine and opium most of the time. She could barely keep the days and nights in time anymore. One moment it'd be day, and then she'd wake up to night. Sometimes she'd wake up the next day and wonder why the sun hadn't gone down yet. The doctor said she should remain in the hospital rather than in Polly's home. They could better watch her if she stayed. Tommy visited often and so did Polly and Harry. She couldn't talk to them because of the bandages and her healing jaw, but she was under so often she hardly acknowledged them. She'd sometimes hear their voices.

 _'_ _Is she getting any better, Doctor?' 'Slowly but surely, Ms. Gray.'_

 _'_ _Hey there, love. I brought you some pretty flowers. Everybody at the pub's been asking for you. I told them you were sick…'_

 _'_ _You'll be better soon, petal. I promise.'_

She might as well have been dead. She wished she was with all the pain. All the morphine and opium in the world couldn't stop the nightmares. Visions of bloody guns and hysterical sobbing filled her dreams. She'd hear bones breaking and warm blood covered her hands. Every time, he'd stand up after and throttle her. He'd hit and hit and hit but she never passed out. She stayed living on the edge as he beat her. She woke up in a jolt almost every night, screaming into the void of her hospital room. Nurses calmed her with more morphine.

 _'_ _She has nightmares, Mr. Shelby. We give it to her so she sleeps.'_

 _'_ _She can't be on it forever. Stop giving it to her.'_

 _'_ _We can't. Doctor's orders, sir.'_

 _'_ _Then get him in here.'_

Rose would've told him she needed the morphine or else she'd suffer. She could barely open her mouth without pain. Instead, she stayed silent as she slowly went back under. No. No more. No more dreams. No more pain. Stop.


	32. Chapter 32

He sat in The Garrison alone. He'd sent Harry to the hospital so someone was with her when she woke. A pitcher of water and a bottle of whiskey on the table, he knew exactly who would be coming any moment. If Campbell kept up his end of the bargain, some of his men would be lying in wait somewhere for the signal. Byrne would most likely bring Maguire, his cousin's good friend and comrade. He'd also come to Tommy about the guns the day the man died. He kept a map in his coat pocket and no gun on him. A gun in his holster would look suspicious, but Tommy knew better.

They walked in together, each man taking a seat at the table. Tommy poured water for Byrne and a whiskey for Maguire. He pushed the glass over, but Maguire declined. Tommy raised an eyebrow.

"Lost your thirst, eh?" he asked.

"Where are the guns?" Byrne demanded.

Tommy pulled out the map from inside his coat. He didn't hand it over right away. "Cash first," he said.

Maguire slid a large stack of money over to him. Tommy knew this was it. Handing them the map, he hoped Nigel would pick up on the signal. The dock owner wasn't the first person he'd choose, but he definitely had no love for the IRA. He was willing to prove his trustworthiness to Tommy. Nigel wanted his father's empire, and he'd have it one way or another.

"You're going to need a shovel," he told them.

Maguire began chuckling. Tommy didn't feel anxious one bit. It wasn't the first time a man drew a gun on him. "You thick fucking tinker," he said, aiming the gun at Tommy.

"You think we'd let you live?" Byrne said. "Make your peace, Mr. Shelby."

"I will make my peace my own way," he answered. He lifted up his glass and said, "To beautiful girls that can take a hit or two."

The back door burst open and Nigel came out with his gun pointed at Maguire. He stopped a few steps behind Tommy, "I'd put that down if I were you."

"Mr. Weston," Byrne said, "I'm surprised to find you working with Tommy Shelby. I thought your father declared war on the Peaky Blinders."

"My father doesn't control The Blighters anymore," he said, "Now, down."

Maguire didn't put his gun down. "I ain't afraid of you, gang thug."

"'Gang thug'? You hear that, Tommy? I'm a gang thug now."

"Really? Could've sworn you were a gang leader," Tommy said, keeping his eyes on the two men.

"Enough chatter," Byrne said. "I'd really hate to shoot you, Mr. Weston. Your boats have been a big help to the organization."

"You think I don't know about you IRA scum stowing away on my ships?" Nigel asked, "You lot sending your little packages up and down the river? I don't very much appreciate people using my boats without consulting or cutting me into the deal. So, perhaps you get why I'm here now."

"Maguire," Byrne sighed, "Shoot him."

The second Maguire turned to Nigel, the latter shot him twice in the chest. Byrne pulled out his pistol, but Tommy got hold of it first. He raised it into the air as Byrne took a shot into the ceiling, and the two began struggling. Tommy and he crashed into the bar, glasses and bottles shattering on the ground. Tommy smelled smoke on Byrne. He could hear his grunting as Tommy slammed his gun hand repeatedly onto the bar, loosening the gun from his grip. Tommy tried getting him into a headlock, but Byrne overpowered him. They fell to the floor in a crash, rolling around until Byrne had Tommy fully locked. His arm tightened around Tommy's neck as his coat went over his face. Tommy gasped for air, but was met with nothing except the lining of his coat.

Suddenly the flashes came. He could almost feel the German's throat in the crook of his arm, the man fighting for breath on his knees. Tommy didn't let him go. He could hear Danny and Freddie behind him. The German's body going limp in his arms was so vivid in his mind. He forgot where he was. He wasn't in the pub. He was in the tunnel surrounded by screams and dirt. He kicked, but nothing happened. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't even shout for help. The tunnel was suffocating and hot. The mud and dirt on his face smeared with sweat. He would see black if his own coat wasn't thrown over him.

 _BANG! BANG!_

The shots rung in his ears, and Tommy winced at the sound. Byrne's arm slipped away from him and onto the floor. The familiar ringing in his ears brought back Freddie being shot, and Danny being stabbed. A feral rage came over him fueled by survival. Tommy rolled over onto his stomach away from Byrne, and gulped each breath. He realized where he was, and who really pulled the trigger. He wasn't in the tunnel. He wasn't fighting a German. He was home. He was home. Tommy looked up and saw Nigel tucking away his pistol, and holding out a hand.

"I needed a clear shot," he told Tommy. He looked him over and said, "Don't worry. It happens to me too."

The door opened and three policemen walked into the pub. Tommy glared at them. "You were supposed to come on the sixth chime," he said. "You were supposed to come on the fucking sixth chime!"

"Tommy," Nigel pulled him away and Tommy leaned against the bar. "They refused to surrender," Nigel told the Sergeant, "So, we had to put them down."

"Ah I see," The Sergeant nodded, "Put them down like they were dogs."

"Aren't all Irishmen dogs?" he asked. "I expected more out of you, Sergeant. You're usually so reliable."

"I'm not on your payroll anymore, Weston, and not on your father's either," he retorted. "You best watch how you speak to me."

Nigel snorted, fixing his jacket, "Get the bodies out of here. They're your property and Campbell will want proof."

"Proof of what? They were never here and this never happened, so who cares?" He looked at the two men, "You boys have a nice day."

Nigel glared at their backs. "Bloody bastard," he sighed and saw the mess in front of them. "Don't worry, Tommy," he said, "My boys will come and take them out back. Rosie won't know a thing when she gets back."

Tommy didn't reply. He only stared. Rosie. As if Rose would care about two dead Irishmen in the state she's in right now. If anything, she'd care more about him visiting Grace. He didn't exactly know how he'd explain, but he'd tell her. If he was lucky, she'd put him out of his misery like she did her father.

* * *

 _Grace made sure she'd cleaned up the glasses and the ash tray that night. She told him the hickey was a bruise from the end table last night. Chester still hadn't suspected anything the next morning, so she was in the clear. Fixing him eggs and bacon the following morning, she couldn't stop thinking of what transpired on her couch. He admitted he missed her. He kissed her and touched her like he did before. She was taken back to those days where they'd make love and lay in his bed the whole night, talking and laughing together. Perhaps they could have those days again with little farm girl out of the way. Tommy had his fun and now she was gone. He could have a proper woman instead._

 _"_ _Morning, love," Chester said as he came into the kitchen, freshly shaved and wearing a sharp suit. He kissed her cheek and took a seat at the kitchen table. "Smells wonderful," he said as she poured him coffee and gave him the newspaper. "Then again, it's no surprise. It is your cooking," he grinned at her._

 _"_ _Oh, it's nothing," she said, "It's only eggs and bacon."_

 _He unfolded the newspaper as she went back to work. Tommy wasn't a coffee and newspaper man or at least she imagined. Every morning, he'd wake up, dress and head straight for business. He always had business on his mind. Grace hoped she'd be as important one day, but Tommy proved her wrong on many occasions._

 _"_ _Did you hear about that man they found in the river?" he asked, sipping his coffee. "I had to go to the crime scene myself yesterday afternoon."_

 _"_ _Really?" Grace asked, taking bacon out of the pan. She cracked an egg into the pan right away, "Who killed him?"_

 _"_ _No idea yet," he answered. "He was beaten to death with an object, and shot six or seven times. Whoever did it tossed him into the river and tied him with rocks at least a week or so ago. I guess one of the ropes cut loose down in the river, so he floated his way onto the riverbank."_

 _"_ _Oh dear Lord," she said, bringing the plate over to him, "I wonder who would do such a thing."_

 _"_ _So do I."_

 _The two of them ate together, talking about other things. Grace told him about her mother's letter and how she kept hinting on having a grandchild. Chester assured her their time would come. He told her about Tommy and the two Irishmen. He said the two men ended up dead and Nigel Weston's men must've sent them up the river too. He also voiced his suspicions of Weston being a culprit in the riverbank body, though Grace argued against them. She had a good feeling that the death wasn't gang related._

 _"_ _Oh damn," Chester said when he stood to leave. "Where's my watch?" he felt around his pockets and front._

 _"_ _Maybe you left it in the lounge again," Grace said, picking up the plates and putting them in the sink._

 _Chester nodded and left the room. She'd begun washing dishes when he returned. "Did you find your watch, darling?"_

 _"_ _I did," he said. "I also found this."_

 _Grace turned and found a pack of cigarettes on the table. Their blue and white packaging told her they were Tommy's. Any other person would've thought he'd accidentally dropped them on his way out. Not Grace. She knew him. She should have known._

 _"_ _I would say that I know these are yours," he said, "But you don't smoke this brand. You're picky with your cigarettes, Grace." He only called her Grace when she was in trouble. She put on a brave face._

 _"_ _They're cheaper," she said._

 _"_ _Since when do you like things that are cheap? Since Tommy Shelby is the one selling them?"_

 _"_ _I don't know what you're talking about," she replied, returning to her dishes. She rinsed one of them and put it to dry. "They're only cigarettes, Chester."_

 _"_ _And I suppose this is only a hat?"_

 _Grace stopped washing. She was afraid to turn around. No. He couldn't have done this to her. He'd never do this to her. Grace looked over and saw the peaked cap she was expecting to find. How did she miss that? She felt stupid. He did this on purpose. All his words were lies. He'd only distracted her._

 _"_ _And that this was only a bruise?" he said, pointing at the hickey on her neck. "He was here, wasn't he?" Chester asked. "That Blinder bastard was in my house?"_

 _"_ _He stopped by," she said, "He said he wanted to talk to you. I told him if he liked he could wait a while."_

 _"_ _Why? Why would he come here when we could meet elsewhere?"_

 _"_ _I don't know," she said. "He stayed a little. We talked over drinks and then he left."_

 _"_ _He left when he was waiting for me?"_

 _"_ _I told him you'd be late, and I didn't want to keep him."_

 _"_ _Or did he rush out the door when I came home, leaving his hat behind?"_

 _"_ _He didn't rush out of anything. Chester, you're being unreasonable."_

 _"_ _I am not being unreasonable!" he said. He gripped the hat in his hand, his loving nature suddenly disappearing. "I could smell him when I walked in last night. I said nothing about it because I was denying it. I'm always denying it with you. I deny how you feel about me, about how much you want my children, about this marriage. I'm done denying it. You never loved me. I know you weren't happy marrying me."_

 _"_ _That's not true, Chester. I wanted to marry you that night you took me to-"_

 _"_ _-No," he cut in, "No, you didn't. You went because your mother told you to go. I overheard you both the week before the wedding. You told her you didn't want to marry a man that was her age. She told you that you had a choice. You either marry me or go to a nunnery. You chose marrying me, thinking it'd be almost the same thing. Not once did you think I'd want you in bed. I can tell you hate it. Don't bother speaking. I know the truth," he said. He looked at the hat in his hands, "I thought perhaps you might fall for me somewhere down the road. I imagined you'd come to your senses and love a man who could give you whatever you wanted; that admired and adored you. I was silly to think you'd ever leave him in the past. I was foolish to think you'd ever want me the same."_

 _"_ _Chester…"_

 _"_ _Don't," he said, twisting the hat in his hands, "Don't stand there and tell me you don't want him. Don't you dare, you little harlot. I've done everything you asked of me. Everything I've done has been for you and you alone. I wanted to make you happy, but it seems that I can't even do that!"_

 _She timidly stepped towards him, "Chester, please. You have made me happy. I am happy with you. Nothing happened between me and him."_

 _"_ _Don't lie to me!" his hand went across her face. "I doubt you'd let him into this house without those lustful intentions of yours! You always wanted him more than me!" he slapped her again. She could taste blood in her mouth. "I was never good enough for you, was I?! Was I?!"_

 _"_ _No, you weren't!" she said back. "You aren't even half the man he is! You never will be!"_

 _Chester laughed, "Not for very long. When he's gone, you're going to wish you'd stayed faithful to me!" He hit her again and threw her against the counter. She groaned at the pain searing the small of her back. "I'll be gone most of the day, but when I come home, you better be here waiting for me. You're going to give me that child, even if it takes the entire month!"_

 _He stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him. Grace stood in the kitchen, holding her cheek. She immediately went upstairs to her bedroom. She would not be here when he came. She refused to suffer at his hands anymore. She wasn't his play thing or his trophy. Grace was a person of her own. She couldn't go home or to London, but she would go to one person. Packing up her things, she headed outside in her coat and hat._

 _She crossed the street into the alley in front of her house and said, "I know you're there, Jeremiah."_

 _Out walked the street preacher himself. Dark and dressed in his usual black and collar, he said, "Hello Grace. How'd you know?"_

 _"_ _You think I didn't notice the man lurking in front of my home?" she asked. "Where is he?"_

 _"_ _Where is who?"_

 _"_ _Please, don't play dumb. Tommy. Where is he?"_

 _"_ _Where Rose is," he said, "The hospital."_

 _"_ _The hospital?" she questioned. "Why would he be there?"_

 _"_ _Can't say," he shrugged, "That's where he is these days. I pray the girl recovers. She took a nasty beating."_

 _Grace didn't know what he meant, but regardless, she made her way for St. Bart's. How dare he do this. He tricked her. He framed her. If Grace went back, she'd be at her husband's mercy. If she went home to Belfast, she'd eventually have to face him and the things she'd done. If she ran away, he'd find her. She hadn't even slept with Tommy. They only kissed and touched. She knew they never would again._

* * *

Tommy sat beside her bed, watching her sleep. He no longer gave her opium, and she only had morphine when she needed it. He hated how they kept her under so often and so long. They claimed she needed rest and she couldn't sleep without either of them. He knew the feeling. Tommy hadn't slept well lately. He couldn't. He sat there in a new shirt and jacket, lighting a cigarette for himself. Tommy watched her sleep soundlessly. He hated hospitals where death and illness lingered everywhere. In France, they put him in a tent when he got shot. They told him he should spend the night. It'd been torture for him. He slept listening to the sounds of men wincing and groaning from their pain. There were men worse off than he was then too. Men who had their limbs cut or blown off, men who caught an illness in the trenches, men who lay dying in their beds from wounds that wouldn't heal were all around him. He'd only been shot once, and he thought he'd die amongst them. Her room was dark and only one window at the very top.

 _'_ _She might as well be in a basement again,'_ he thought.

Rose should be at home with him. She should be in a comfortable, warm bed. Polly would care for her. They all would. He looked at the stack of books Charlotte brought during her visit. She could read them when she woke up, she said. Tommy read them to her in the night before she slept. It gave him purpose while he sat there. He leaned forward and touched her hair. He could see the stitches from her surgery still in place. A week or two more and she'll be better, but the scar will only add to the collection. The doctor told him the scar would fade and get smaller in a few years. Tommy didn't care one way or the other. He loved her all the same. He kissed her forehead.

"You're going to be fine, petal," he said to her. "You're going to get better, and be up and about in no time. I promise."

He heard somebody walk in. Grace stood at the door, a suitcase in her hands and a stunned expression on her face. He saw the red on her cheeks. By now, he assumed Campbell found out about their meeting yesterday. Tommy honestly wasn't in the mood for an argument.

"See what your brilliant ideas do to people," he said first. "You think I didn't know what you'd done? That I didn't know that you'd gone from pub to pub looking for him? How did you even know?"

"I looked up her name," she said, eyes still on Rose. "I didn't find any Wicks, but I found a Jameson who matched her description. I heard about-about a drunk the police picked up, sa-saying he was looking for his daughter. He did this to her?"

"Yes, he did," he said. "He broke into our shop early in the morning and attacked her. He beat her the way he's always beaten her, and you lead him to it."

"I-I-I didn't…" she came closer to the bed, observing the sleeping girl. "I didn't think it'd be so…"

"Monstrous?" he suggested, "Evil? Cruel? You didn't think it'd be what Grace?"

"Tommy," she broke away from Rose to him, "I'm telling the truth. I knew nothing about him or her. I didn't know he'd hurt her. I never thought he would. He didn't seem like he could do much beating with all the swaying and drinking. I thought he'd just drag her off."

"You thought wrong," he said. "Men like him don't drag women away. They kill them. He would've _killed_ her."

"She got away?"

"No," he shook his head, "She killed him instead."

"She killed him? But he was so…and she's so…How?"

"No idea. She hasn't said," he told her. "All I know is he came into the shop, he smacked her around, broke her bones, and somehow she got the upper hand on him. She unloaded the gun, and then bashed his face with her pistol."

Grace looked on her. She was stunned. He watched her grip the end of the bed, examining Rose's body. "I didn't mean for it to go this far," she said. "I-I didn't think it would. I thought she'd get scared a little and go home. I didn't think she'd end up like this." She turned back to Tommy, "You know I'm not this terrible, right? I'll admit I'm no angel, but I'm not a monster either. I wouldn't purposefully have her killed or hurt this way."

"He set my father on her too," he continued. "It's how her apartment burned down."

"See? You know me. I wouldn't have asked for this. She...She seems sweet," she confessed. "Knowing you, she probably lives with you now. She's not homeless."

"Oh, she was homeless way before she came to Birmingham," he said. He continued smoking, blowing it into the air as he watched her. "If you were so jealous, there were gentle ways of showing it than having her nearly beaten to death."

"I didn't tell him to beat her!" she said. "I didn't tell him to do anything! I only told him where she was staying, and that he would find her there with you!"

"That doesn't change anything!" he shouted. "You instigated it the way you instigate everything! You start fights but have someone else finish it for you! You manipulate everyone around you into thinking you're whoever they want you to be! Now look! Look at her! She's laying here in pain while you get to fucking walk around!"

"Like you're so bloody different!" she remarked. "How happy is she going to be when she hears how you came to my house and kissed me and felt me up, huh?! How happy will she be about that?! You did to us what you do to everyone! You throw them under the bus to further your fucking plans!" She shoved him, "All the time! Every time!"

He knew she was right. Rose wouldn't be happy with the things he's done and still have to do. He could only hope she'd understand and forgive him. If not right away then soon. Tommy said, "But at least the people I care about don't end up in a hospital bed with a broken jaw and a fractured skull."

"I'll take blame for that," she said through her teeth, "But I'm not taking blame for your little scheme. He hit me, you know. He thinks that you fucked me! He knows that my feelings for you haven't changed, and is jealous! I can't imagine what he'll do to you when he finds you."

"The thing is, Grace, that unlike you, I can actually walk away from him," he said. "You can either become a homeless drifter or go back to him and your family."

"You know what would happen if I did that."

"Like you don't deserve it? I mean, why would a happily married woman let a man like me come into her home when her husband isn't home? To your family, what we did is borderline adultery. To them, we might as well have fucked, especially with how Campbell's going to tell it to them." He scoffed, "You want to know the fucked up thing? He'll probably forgive you. A man his age can't afford losing a wife like you. He'll force you to go back with him, and honestly, I wouldn't mind helping if he asked."

She heard the threat in his words. He knew she did. Before she could reply, a small sound like a coo of a dove came from the bed. Tommy looked over and saw Rose stirring from sleep. He felt relieved. She gave a groan as her bandaged hand tried grasping the pipe on the end table. Tommy rushed to the table before the pipe could fall. He picked it up and put it far out of reach. She couldn't speak very much, but she said, "Pl-lease?"

"No," he said, stroking her hair, "No more for now. You need to eat." She shook her head, but he only said, "You have to, petal."

"Petal?" Grace said surprised, "You call her 'petal'? Since when do you give pet names? You never called me anything special."

"Because nothing ever suited you," he answered. He picked 'Peter Pan' from the stack, "Do you want me to read to you? I brought your favorite from home."

Rose nodded, rolling onto her back and seeing Grace. She glared. "Why i-i-is she here?" she asked in a slur.

"She came to see you," Tommy glanced at Grace, "To apologize for what happened to you."

"I didn't know," she said. "I knew nothing about you-"

"-G-Go away," Rose said.

"Rose, I'm sorry. I really am. I didn't mean for this to happen how it did. If I'd known he'd put you in here, I wouldn't have said anything to him about you. I wouldn't have bothered looking. You don't deserve this. Nobody deserves this," she said. "I knew somewhere deep down that he wouldn't want me back. Why would he? Look at the pain I caused him by abandoning him. So much so that he probably has trouble trusting you now. I was foolish and stupid. I thought I could win him back from you and for a short time I thought I had. I never thought it'd land you here. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Rose said nothing. Tommy took that as a silent 'piss off' before saying, "You should go now, Grace."

He walked her to the door where she turned and said, "You baby her."

"What?"

"You baby her," she repeated. "You call her 'petal' and read her stories and stroke her hair like she's a child. She's a grown woman, Tommy."

"She's a grown woman that I love who is in a hospital bed," he said. "I don't think how I treat her is any of your concern."

"You're right," she said, "It's not. But eventually, you're going to have to stop babying her."

Tommy closed the door when she left. He turned back to Rose, who sat waiting for him. She needed him and he needed her. There was nothing wrong with treating her well and caring for her. She kept him from worrying about the things outside the room. Such as Black Star Day that should be coming up in a few weeks along with Billy Kimber and Richard Weston. He also didn't like thinking of Byrne and Maguire, who were most likely buried in unmarked graves. He'd need to start preparations soon enough. He'd need to map out with Nigel who was doing what and where. If Kimber knows he's going to Black Star, then he might hit there instead. Kimber would want everyone to see him taking the Peaky Blinders down. With the Blighters and the Lees on their side, they might have a decent chance. He took his seat beside Rose, who only stared at him. He looked over her face once more. The swelling of her eye came down significantly over the past few days, and the cut on her lips resembled a scratch. The bruises on her cheeks went away, leaving only a small cut high up her cheekbone. Tommy kissed her forehead again.

No, he wouldn't tell her now.


	33. Chapter 33

She sat in the bed most days, reading or eating whatever mush they slipped in front of her. Her jaw healed up well enough, but the doctor insisted soft foods first. Occasionally, she had visitors. Charlotte and the twins would stop by, telling her everything would be better once Charlotte straightened things with Alan. She told Rose she had committed a crime; they couldn't let it sweep under the rug so easily. Polly and Ada came around often and tell her how things were at home. Harry would tell her how everyone at the bar asked after her and that she'd be on her feet in no time. Sadly, the worst was Tommy. She knew he cared for her, but it'd become too much. He constantly looked after her when it wasn't necessary. He even once tried feeding her until she knocked the spoon from his hand. She said she had another hand she could use.

' _He feels guilty, Rosie,'_ Polly said when she told her. _'He should have been there for you, and he wasn't.'_

No. It wasn't that simple. Something lingered on his mind and she knew what it was. Grace. She'd been half out of her mind when Grace appeared at the edge of her bed. She'd heard them both. They weren't exactly quiet during their conversation.

' _How happy is she going to be when she hears how you came to my house and kissed me and felt me up, huh?!'_

Rose hadn't been happy, that much was true. Tommy said he didn't love Grace anymore, so why would he go visit her? She spent a lot of her free time pondering this question. It took her mind off the darkness and loneliness of the room. Rose knew Tommy was cunning. He had done things strictly based on his ambitions and business. Business was on his mind all the time, even when he was with her. She understood his need for success, but would he truly go that far? He hated Campbell. He made it that pretty obvious. She thought perhaps it was against Grace. Perhaps he'd done it as revenge. However, what did he gain from kissing and touching her? Tommy never did anything that was risky or didn't benefit him. How could being with Grace benefit his plans? Also, Grace was a married woman now, but that clearly didn't stop her. Also, Grace was obviously not a deft strategist. What made her think hurting Rose would get Tommy back? If Rose had died, maybe Tommy would find comfort in her arms? Tommy might come running to her again? Tommy might want her back in his life? Those all sounded like a lot of 'might's if she asked Rose.

It then occurred to her that she was Campbell's wife. She used this fact on many occasions, including getting away with what she did. The only smart thing Grace had done was using her husband as a shield to hide behind. She didn't have that anymore. Campbell, who loved his wife so much, wouldn't approve of her infidelity. Grace was young and pretty. She made the perfect trophy wife. What kind of man would let that slip through his fingers? Not Campbell. Yet, Grace told Tommy she had no intentions of going back to him. A man like Campbell would make sure she did. Having Grace shamed and Campbell focused on his unfaithful wife might distract them both. Her lawful shield wasn't protecting her anymore. The coward was out in the open.

Tommy killed two birds with one stone. Rose wasn't sure if she was okay with such plans.

"You're awake," Tommy came walking in one afternoon. He kissed the top of her head and took the seat behind her. "I thought you'd be sleeping."

"I can't sleep," she said. "I don't want to sleep."

"You have to sleep at some point," he said. "You can't stay awake the whole night."

She pushed her mashed potatoes across her plate, making a heart shape out of the soft food. "I dread sleep," she said. "I see him in my dreams, Tommy. I see his face. I see the blood. In my dreams, he wakes up after I'd beaten him. He wakes up and strangles me. He yells at me, but I can't hear him. I try getting out of his grip but I can't. He's too heavy," she finished her heart and then scrambled it again, starting over. "I wake up before he kills me."

"I know it isn't easy," he said, "But you need rest. You can't avoid it forever."

"The nurses make me take opium still," she told him. "They say it helps me sleep. I tell them I don't want to sleep, and they force me to take it. I don't want to take it anymore. I hate it. You might enjoy it, but I don't. I hate not being able to tell day from night."

She could tell that hurt him. She didn't care. For once in her life, Rose didn't care if she hurt someone. Clearly, people were okay with hurting her. Some even enjoyed hurting her because they thought she was weak. She wasn't weak. Not anymore. She was strong, and she'd keep on proving that to them even if it took forever.

"Rose," he touched her hand but she pulled away, "Rosie, I know it hurts. It isn't easy for me to sleep either. I only sleep when I'm with you."

"How romantic," she sighed. "You're just full of love, aren't you Tommy? Finally have a heart beating in that chest of yours?"

"Rose-"

"-I'm right here. You don't have to keep saying my name."

"What the hell's wrong with you?" he asked angrily.

"Oh, I don't know," she said, "Maybe it's that your bitchy ex-girlfriend sends my father to kill me, then I get stuck in a bloody hospital for weeks and am constantly given things forcing me to sleep, and then you go fuck said ex-girlfriend just to piss off her husband. Why don't I ask you what the hell's wrong with you, Tommy? For someone who doesn't like questions, you certainly have a lot to ask."

He simply stared at her. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry for what I did."

"You fucking should be," she grumbled.

He paused, still looking at her. In the glow from the sun, his eyes looked lighter than usual. A pale blue color, she'd loved them so much. Now, she wanted to punch them until they were black and purple. "I shouldn't have done it. I know I shouldn't have, but it needed to be done. If Grace runs away from Campbell, he won't have as many men because he'll be sending them after her. He'd use up his resources. He'd be preoccupied for the moment, so we could make our plans. It gives Grace nowhere to run. She's unprotected. If something were to happen to her, there'd be no consequence."

She heard the suggestion in his voice. She saw it in his eyes. "Is that supposed to erase what you did?"

"No," he said, "But it's a start, isn't it?"

"I guess."

"I asked Polly to talk to Gr-"

"-No," she interrupted him. "No, I want to do it."

"Rose," he said, "You should leave it to someone else. You're still here, love. There isn't much you can do."

"Not right now," she said, "But soon."

"Petal," he called her, "You're not built for something like that. You're too…"

"So we're just going to forget that I shot and beat my father to death? Suddenly I'm back to being the stupid little girl that doesn't know how to do anything?"

"I never said that, Rose," he said. "What you did wasn't thought out. What you did wasn't planned. You did it out of anger."

"And how many people did you kill out of anger in the war, huh?"

She'd struck a chord. His chest puffed from his deep breath, and then flattened when he exhaled. She knew it'd been a low blow. She didn't care about that either. How many times did people hurt her feelings and got away with it? He glared at her. "None," he said. "I killed them because they would've killed me."

"That's what I did," she retorted. "I killed him because he would've done the same if I let him. How is that any different? Because I didn't do it in a tunnel? Because I wasn't fighting for my country so that suddenly means what I did was meaningless?"

Mentioning the tunnel did it for him. He shook his head and stood up. "So you're just going to leave? Did I hurt Tommy's feelings?"

He rounded on her, "You don't know anything about that. You don't know ANYTHING about that!" He smacked the water jog off the table, sending it flying halfway across the room. "You don't know what happened! You would NEVER know what happened! Five years! Five years in fucking tunnels! You don't know ANYTHING!"

He slapped the basin next, not caring that it shattered on the floor. He walked out of the room and slammed the door. She watched him leave. She pushed her food aside as a nurse walked in and began cleaning up the mess. Rose said nothing to her. Her head throbbed but she didn't tell her. She knew what they'd give her if said. His words stuck with her. The look in his eyes stayed with her. She'd hurt him. He would never say so, but she knew it.

"You know, for two people who claim to love one another," a voice said a little while later, "You do fight a lot."

John stood at the door. He walked into the room as the nurse took her leave. Rose made room for him on the bed. "He came back to the house pretty upset, so I figured you two had another fight." When she didn't say anything, he continued, "I could tell because when Arthur said he'd hung himself again, Tommy didn't really care. He said he should've done it, then we could have Arthur's share of the company. Normally, he'd be concerned like he was the last time. He was hurt, Rosie. Really hurt. What did you say to him?"

She couldn't repeat it. Everything had been such a blur in her headache. She winced from the throbbing pain. Her stomach twisted until she felt sick, but still she said nothing. "Nothing he didn't deserve to hear."

John studied her for a moment, and then said, "I remember how I felt when I first killed somebody."

"John…"

"It was this German bloke who came over the trenches. I didn't really think about it either. I grabbed my rifle and bang! Shot him right in the chest," he said anyways. "It wasn't easy. I thought about it for days. I went on to kill more men; fight for my life in the smoke and mud. It destroyed me. It broke me. Don't let it break you, Rosie. You're the only good thing he's got, and he doesn't want to lose you. I know he doesn't say it a lot, but he loves you. The-The things he's done for you, he doesn't do for anyone else."

"I-I have nightmares, John. Bad ones," she said, not looking at him. "I don't sleep. I can't sleep. It hurts too much."

"Ah, so you think you're the only person in the world that's traumatized?" he asked incredulously. "I love you, Rose, but you gotta stop wallowing in your self-pity. It only makes things worse. Look what it's done to Arthur. He's a bloody drunk now. Do you want to end up that way?"

"No."

"Then?" he scoffed, "You think being mean and hurting those who love you makes you tough? It doesn't. It makes you weak cause then-then you're pushing away people who only want to protect you from what's out there. What we do isn't nice; it isn't good, and Tommy wants to keep you from that as much as possible. He- _WE-_ want you to be happy. I mean, can't you fucking see that?"

"He thinks I can't take care of myself. He thinks he has to baby me all the time."

"He doesn't think that. He knows you can take care of yourself. He only keeps you from it because of this exact reason," he gestured to her. "He didn't want it breaking you. He doesn't want you ending up like him or me or Arthur."

"So what if I did?"

"Then you'd be fucking lost."

He stared at her, almost angry. John touched her face, caressing her cheek softly. "When I met you, I thought you were the sweetest thing. I'd hate for you to lose that." He kissed her cheek and then looked to the floor, "He had a tantrum, didn't he?"

She stifled a giggle, "He did."

John gave a quick laugh, "Yeah that sounds like him. He normally doesn't do it in front of people. I guess he bottles up things so much it just explodes in him."

Rose hated what she had done, but could anyone blame her? He'd betrayed her. Should she just forgive and forget? Rose didn't know anymore. John's words flowed through her head the entire time he sat beside her. When he left, she thought of Tommy. She hoped he'd come back so she could see him. Sleep was dawning on her now, and she tried fighting it for as long as possible. Sadly, exhaustion won her out.


	34. Chapter 34

She only found Ada. The dark haired girl stood at the entrance to the hospital, the coldest look on her face. She pushed Karl's carriage alongside Rose quietly. She felt nervous around Ada. Her stomach churned as she thought of being confronted by what she'd done. She'd spent the last few days mulling over John's words. She never told John what Tommy did with Grace. She told nobody. It wasn't necessary. She'd hurt him enough, she didn't want his family hating him too. Rose looked over at Ada as they walked down the lane towards Polly's. She thought of seeing the shop again. She imagined there would be bloodstains still on the wood. There was no way they could take it all off in one go. Rose didn't know if she wanted to see that.

"He wouldn't want me staying with you," Rose said.

"No, he wouldn't," Ada said. "I'm only stopping here to drop off Karl with Polly. You're staying with Harry, since its closer to The Garrison."

"Oh…"

Ada said nothing else as she left Rose outside. Rose felt people looking at her. Surely people must've heard what happened by now. She tried not caring. Tough girls didn't care what people thought, right? They didn't listen to their opinions. Yet, Rose couldn't help but wonder what they were all thinking. It hadn't been like her first day in Small Heath, where nobody knew her name and she'd remained invisible. She'd kill for that invisibility now. Ada came back out of the house, fixing her purse on her arm and walking Rose down towards The Garrison. She didn't speak to her. She worried the other Shelbys would do the same. Would they shun her now that she'd hurt Tommy? She brushed it off. So what if they didn't like her anymore?

' _They loved you. They cared about you.'_ A voice said in her head, _'You're a bloody idiot. You really are a stupid little girl.'_

Ada stopped in front of Harry's door and knocked. The barman answered with a wide grin on his face. Rose couldn't help but smile back. His smile made her feel warm. His long arms meant safety. "Harry…"

"Look who's up and about now, eh?" Harry gave a laugh. "Come here, girl," he hugged her, putting his head on top of hers. "I missed you," he said, giving her a light squeeze, "The boys at the pub miss you too. They keep asking about you."

"I missed you too, Harry," she said. "I'm…I'm staying with you for a while. Is that okay?"

"Is that okay?" he repeated, laughing, "Of course it is. You know you're welcome here anytime you need, love." His eyes fell on Ada, "Mrs. Thorne, I didn't know you'd be walking her."

"I want to help her settle in," she said. "Where's her room?"

"Upstairs," he answered, "First door on the left."

Ada led her up the stairs to the room. Once the door was closed, she knocked Rose's suitcase out of her hand. "You're a fucking idiot, you know that?!"

"Ada," she said, "I already got this from John. My head's killing me. Please…"

"No, you don't get a break," Ada retorted. "You hurt him badly, Rosie. I know you did. He's thrown himself into business and his plans because he doesn't want to deal with what you did. What is it that you even did?"

"What I did?!" she said back. "What **I** did?! He's the one that betrays me, but I'm the one who's wrong?! He gets away with what he did because he did it all in the name of his stupid plans!"

"Then you're a match made in heaven, aren't you?!" she shouted. "You're both idiots who make stupid decisions! You two fight over the dumbest things! It's not like he fucked her or that he enjoyed doing it! That man fucking loves you and you're constantly complaining and whining! I'm sick of it! You have a man who adores you and people who love you! Isn't that what you always wanted?! Acceptance and love and a family?! We gave you that with no questions asked because we all knew what you were like! Now, you kill one man and suddenly you're this different person?! That's bullshit and you know it! You went through Hell before, and it didn't change you! You were good even after what you went through! You were kind and good! How is killing someone going to change you?! I thought you were stronger than this! You've proven it before! Gah, you're so stupid! Both of you!" She growled, "I'm so fucking mad at you! Did you know you're the only real friend I've ever had? Yeah, I never really liked the girls I knew growing up! But you and I clicked right away, regardless of how shy you were at first! I thought…" her eyes glistened with tears, "I thought we could be sisters someday…"

"Ada…" she reached for her but Ada moved away. "I'm-I'm sorry…"

"You're such a brat," she hissed. "Even Grace wasn't this ridiculous!"

"Really? You're saying the woman who tried to kill me over a man who didn't want her in the first place isn't ridiculous at all?"

"Oh, of course she is! I was trying to make you feel bad, because that's what you do with everyone around you!" she opened the door, "Come back to us when your pity party is over!"

She slammed the door and silence was all she left. Rose put her suitcase on the bed. She popped it open and found all her things within it. Some of Ada's clothes she'd borrowed, the make-up case Polly gave her, and her mother's papers. Her mother's papers. Her heart dropped reading the elegant writing and the written words that moved so eloquently together. She hadn't thought of her mother in a long while. Part of what she'd done had been for her after all. She'd made him pay for the crimes he'd committed against them both. She sniffed the very faint scent on each page. She imagined her mother lightly spraying the pages with it. Was this the perfume she used? Rose would never know. She sat down and reread every word. She looked over the photos of loving siblings who cared for each other in the shadow of a controlling father. She knew what that felt like.

"You two have a row?" Harry entered the room.

"Something like that," she answered. "I've been selfish, Harry."

He took a seat beside her and said, "You know, normally I'd tell you that you're not being selfish at all. I'd tell you that you're doing what's best for you in the end. But I won't lie to you. You are. You got people who love you that want to help you, love. You are loved. I know 'cause I'm one of them. I'd see you in that hospital bed, half out of your mind on those drugs, and wish we switched places. I would suffer so you didn't have to. You had suffered enough for a lifetime. I care for you, Rosie. I always have. Since the first nightmare you had in the flat, I've only tried…" he paused, taking a deep breath, "I've tried being the father you never had." Rose stared at him. She held his hand in hers. "When you got in the hospital, I-I felt like I failed you. I promised I'd protect you, and I wasn't there. I wish you hadn't done what you did; that you never would have to do it. Killing rips the soul apart. I've seen men come back from France more broken than when they left because of the things they'd done. I didn't want you the same way." He took another breath, holding back the water in his eyes, "You're such a wonderful girl. You brighten up everyone's day. You make people happy without even trying. You stood up for people and cared about anyone no matter where they came from. Now, you think because you killed someone that you need some sort of change."

"But, Harry," she said, "I don't feel how I did before. I don't really-I came back and everything is different. I'm scared, Harry. What if I really did mess things up this time? What if…"

' _What if he doesn't come back this time?'_

"Then you keep on moving," he said, "Until you find yourself again. Everyone loves you. Everyone who meets you loves you. Why do you make it so hard for yourself? Why do you insist on being sad all the time?"

She didn't really know. The basement girl in her would say there was no point in finding happiness because it didn't exist. The girl she'd been before would've told her sadness is a dark pit that sucks people in without mercy, and that she couldn't let herself fall into that pit. What would the new her say now? Why did there even have to be a new her? She still didn't know. She sighed, "I-I don't really know. I feel lost, Harry."

Harry patted her hand, "Well, I'll do whatever I can to help you find yourself again."

He kissed her forehead and made to leave the room. "Harry?" she stopped him.

"Yeah?"

"You are the father I never had."

* * *

She kept her regular schedule. Monday-work; Tuesday-work; Wednesday-work, shopping; Thursday-work on the books, work, dinner with Harry; Friday-work, soup kitchen with Aunt Charlotte and the twins; Saturday- work, work late; Sunday-church, work. She needed this routine. She needed distractions from the thoughts in her head. In her spare time-when there happened to be any-she focused on other things. She read her books, took a stab at writing her own poetry and even bought a small potted plant. Anything to keep her mind occupied. Rose talked with the old regulars, served the same drinks, and gossiped with the ladies who came into the bar at night. The Garrison had always been her home. She felt safe and comfortable. Harry certainly made it better with his jokes and stories.

She tried bringing herself back. She still had nightmares and couldn't stand keeping hold of the pistol she'd used. Yet, Rose wouldn't them rule her. A tough girl wouldn't let things get to her so easily, right? Rose didn't even know. She wasn't sure if she even wanted to be tough. She saw what happened to tough people, and she didn't want that.

She often saw John and Arthur, who were always happy to see her, but she never saw Tommy. They told her he was busy with Nigel or that he was still in the shop. She imagined he drank there now. He wouldn't want to see her, and honestly she did not blame him. She'd been awful. She'd acted like a child. She'd spent so much time thinking to herself that it was his own fault. He shouldn't have gone to Grace. He should have left her alone. Yet, Ada said he hadn't even liked it; that he hadn't slept with Grace. She would then think that perhaps hurting him wasn't the best idea. She'd let her pain rule her head. She'd let her own torture unleash itself onto the person she'd loved the most in this world. She forgave him for what he'd done. The Lord says forgiveness isn't for the other person, it's for oneself. Then again, Tommy wasn't a holy man.

Rose visited church more often than before. It was the only place in Small Heath untouched by noise and smog. She'd sit in the pews and look up at the glass paintings and enjoy the silence. She sometimes brought her Bible and read her favorite passages. HE'd instilled the word of God into her, but she knew he'd only used religion as a mask for his cruelty. Rose surprisingly found comfort in thinking there was somebody who'd take care of her when she died. She didn't have to fear death in that lonely basement. God would take care of her, along with her mother.

Just when she believed the worry was behind her, however, a familiar figured walked into The Garrison before opening. Rose was sweeping old saw dust from the floor when she looked up and saw Grace standing at the door. Dressed immaculately as always, her golden hair in perfect ringlets, she stared at Rose. She couldn't help but feel the resentment. She glanced over at her purse sitting on the bar. Rose still carried the gold and white pistol in her bag. It served as more of a reminder than for protection.

"You look well," Grace broke the silence.

"So do you," she replied. "What's a woman on the run doing in this pub?"

"I heard you'd gotten out of the hospital a few weeks ago," she said. "I-I thought I'd come and apolo-"

"-Don't bother," Rose said, returning to her work, "I'm not interested."

"Rose," she said, "I'm sorry for what happened. I wish it could have gone differently."

"There's a lot of things we wish would have gone differently," she replied, "But it doesn't change the fact they happened."

"I came to see you at the hospital. I don't know if you remember or not. I apologized then too, but I wanted to do it again now."

"Oh I remember," she said, "I also remember you saying Tommy visited you."

"He did," Grace nodded, "But nothing happened between us. We only kissed. It didn't mean anything to him. Rose, he loves you. He loves you much more than he ever loved me. He-He treats you differently."

"I doubt it's that way now," she said. Rose would give anything for him to come back. She would die for the chance to apologize to him, if that even helped at all. "Just leave, Grace."

"Rose, I never meant for it to go that far," she said, stepping closer. "I didn't realize…I didn't know what it'd been like for you before. I know now, and I admire you for that. Not a lot of women can go through what you have and come out the other end a better person." Rose finished sweeping and put the broom and bin aside. She walked to the bar and began emptying spit buckets. Grace continued, "I always thought my husband was bad, but your father was much worse. He didn't treat you like a trophy or a pet. He treated you-"

"-I don't need to hear how my father treated me by people who weren't there," she said, putting down each bucket as she emptied them. "I've moved on, Grace. You should too." Rose felt the resentment building up in her gut. She tried keeping a lid on it as she finished the buckets. She walked behind the bar so there was something keeping distance between them. "I told you to go. You've done enough damage."

"I know. I saw it."

"No, you don't know," Rose said. "You don't know anything about what he did to me or what I went through to get rid of him. He's dead, and he still tortures me. He tortures me in my dreams because of your foolishness. He'll torture me forever even if he's not with us. The only favor you did Grace was sending him my way so I could kill him. Get out. Get out now."

"Rose-"

"-I said get out!"

She pulled the gun from her bag and pointed it at Grace. The other woman froze in place seeing the weapon. Rose's finger rested on the trigger. Her thumb cocked back the bullet. She remembered Him and how unafraid he'd been. She remembered how terrified she'd been. All because of the woman standing in front of her now. Things had been going well before it'd happened. She only had herself to blame for how things were now. She straightened her arm. It was easy. She'd done it before. So what if she did it again? Nobody would miss Grace. Rose certainly wouldn't.

' _Forgiveness isn't for them. It's for you.'_

How could she forgive her? Rose thought of the scar that ran along her jaw to the side of her chin; the little ones on the side of her finger and on her nose. Those had been because of Grace.

' _Killing rips the soul apart.'_

What soul?

' _The soul that's not broken. The soul in your chest. This isn't you.'_

Who is she anymore?

' _Dunno, but it's not whatever this is.'_

She had to be tough. She couldn't be weak anymore.

' _This is tough? This isn't tough. This is stupid. You were never weak. Never.'_

Her hand shook. That familiar tight feeling came back into her chest and she could barely breathe. She stared at Grace, who said nothing as she slowly began backing away. Rose saw the fear in her eyes. She was the weak one, not Rose. She'd run out on Tommy. She'd left everything and gone back to the wealthy people she so eagerly rebelled against. Rose stood with them. She'd never be like them, but she was one of them.

She put the gun down. "Leave," she said, stuffing the gun back in her purse, "Leave and never come back."

"I was leaving anyways to London-"

"-No, not London. Go back to Ireland, go to Australia, go to Russia, France, America if you want. Just don't come back here. I don't want to see your face again."

Grace nodded. She turned around when she reached the door, "There's a lot more to you than meets the eye. Tommy's lucky to have you."

"I suppose," she said.

She nodded and left the bar. Rose let out a shaky breath. Her hands trembled and her eyes went back to her purse. She picked it up and tucked it under the bar where she'd never see it. Rose sunk back into work right away. She cleaned the bar, the tables, the mugs, anything whether it needed cleaning or not. Rose didn't want to think of what she could've done or what she should've done or what might happen because of what she didn't do. She tried erasing Grace's 'Tommy's lucky to have you' comment from her head. It hadn't been out of spite or to mock her one last time. Grace meant what she'd said. But was he really? No. He wasn't.

She worked through her day as usual. She never really forgot the gun under the bar. Rose thought about throwing it into the canal. She didn't need a gun. She didn't want one. To hell with tough girls and strong women. Rose had no interest in those things anymore. She wanted her simplicity back. She wanted things back how they'd been before all this mess happened. She wished she'd never met the Westons or become so involved with them. She wished she'd never talked to Grace or told her to leave when she could have. She wished she'd never gone to Cheltenham and met with Billy Kimber in the first place.

But she never wished she hadn't met Tommy. Not once.

The church was empty when she came later that night. Rose needed silence. She couldn't think with the noise around her. She took a seat in one of the pews and pulled one of the Bibles in front of her. She began reading. She found comfort in the good stories, the nicer ones. They didn't stop her from thinking of Tommy. She missed him. She wondered if he was well; if he'd finally gotten what he wanted. Did he miss her too? Did he worry for her? She doubted it. She doubted he wanted anything to do with her anymore. She put him out of her head.

"He told me I might find you here."

Rose jumped. Looking down the pew she saw Polly. She stood with her hat in her hand and her purse on her arm. Rose hadn't seen her in weeks, seeing as she never came by the pub. She wanted to hug her, but she didn't think Polly would like that. If anyone in the Shelby clan didn't want her, it'd be Polly.

"Who?" she asked.

"Harry," Polly came down the pew and sat beside her. Polly studied her face. Gloved fingers touched the scar on her jaw and on the bridge of her nose. "I went looking for you at his house. He said you might be here. He says you come here on Sundays and sometimes at night."

"It's quiet here," she said. "It's the only place where I'm alone anymore."

"He says you've been keeping yourself busy," Polly told her. "He says you've taken up poetry too."

"I'm not very good," she replied, "Not like my mother anyways, but I've been reading a lot of poetry. I also have a potted plant now. It's a ginger plant so I don't have to buy anymore." She bent the leather corner of the book, "But I have a feeling you're not here to talk about poetry and plants."

"What's gotten into your head, girl?" Polly asked. "What made you think hurting him would better things? You two act like children, I swear it. He admitted to what he'd done. He wasn't happy about it. He told me he didn't sleep with her."

"Ada said the same."

"Then there you go," Polly said, "So what's the problem?"

"I-I don't know…"

"The problem is that you use petty reasons to stay sad," Polly sniped. "It's as if you enjoy rolling in your own misery. It's pathetic and beneath you. You're better than that. You're stronger than that."

"I'm not-"

"-Shut it. I'm talking now." Polly sighed, "When I first met you, you were this sweet, shy thing that probably would've jumped ten feet high at the first bang. Arthur was mad for you, and Tommy certainly had an interest. Ada and you hit it off better than I thought since Ada never kept friends for very long. Even Finn loves you. He asks about you all the time. You became part of our family. I never expected you would, because you weren't like us. You weren't tough and rough around the edges. You never even swore. You'd never been in a fight and you didn't like drinking. But, I saw the strength in you. It was a quiet strength. You never backed down from anything and you constantly challenged people, particularly Tommy-which I applaud by the way-and you were bright. You were bright and even a bit brave. This plan wouldn't be going the way it would if it hadn't been for you."

"He also wouldn't be in this mess if it weren't for me."

"Don't blame yourself for that. Richard Weston is an old man. If Tommy or Nigel doesn't kill him, he'll just die anyways," she said. "Besides, they get on quite well, Tommy and Nigel. Nigel's much smarter than he appears."

"But you already knew that," Rose grinned.

Polly waved her off. "This isn't about me. This is about you. Rose, killing one man doesn't mean anything. It doesn't mean you have to change who you are. You don't have to grow downward. You can grow upwards instead. You can rise above what happened." She glanced at Rose's purse, "And you certainly don't need to carry the reminder around with you."

Rose looked at the purse too. Tentatively, she retrieved the pistol. She held it in her hands, examining the painted gold and ivory. "It was the only thing he gave me. I didn't want to let go of it."

"You have to," she said. "You have to let go of what you did; of what he did."

"I was going to kill her."

"Who?"

"Grace. She came into the pub this morning. I pulled this on her. I was going to shoot her, Polly," Rose said. "I was going to pull the trigger and kill her."

"Why didn't you?"

"I couldn't. Something inside me told me this isn't who I am," she said. "I might not know me anymore, but I know this isn't it. Killing her wouldn't make things better. It'd only make them worse, and it'd rip me even more." She handed Polly the gun, "Get rid of it. Melt it down, throw it in the canal, give it back to him, I don't care how you do it. Just get rid of it for me."

Polly tucked it in her purse. "What did you do instead?"

"I told her to leave England and never come back," she said. "She'd done enough damage already."

"She had," Polly agreed. "You did the right thing. Killing doesn't make you tough. It makes you weak. Tommy wouldn't have liked knowing you'd done it again."

She stayed silent, "Does he miss me, Polly? Be honest."

"Of course he does."

"Then why hasn't he come by the pub? Why doesn't he go to Harry's, if he knows I'm there?"

"He doesn't know how to approach you now. What you said cut him deeply."

"I don't think I can come back from what I said to him. I shouldn't have brought up France. I shouldn't have been so thoughtless and cruel," she said. "He's only ever been good to me, and I never appreciate it. If he doesn't come back, then I never deserved him in the first place."

"If it makes you feel better," she said next, "He asked John about you. He asked if you were well."

"What did John tell him?"

"What you'd expect John to say," she replied, "He said you were miserable and that he should go see you."

Rose snorted, "John would do that."

"Oh, Ada told him he was being a stupid twat and that you two belonged together."

"And I supposed Arthur told him he'd take me from him if Tommy didn't come back."

She nodded, smiling, "Yes, he did. He threatened to kill him one night when he was drunk."

"Sounds like Arthur."

The only bright thing was Tommy missed her too.


	35. Chapter 35

Today was the day. He and Nigel spent the entire night going over plan after plan before they set everything up perfectly. Today he would oust Kimber and Weston both. Nigel would get his father's companies and Tommy would get the racetracks. The Lee family and The Blighters were already on their way to Worcester, where they'd intercept Kimber's men. Tommy and his gang would follow suit soon enough. After dressing, he went to the pub, waking up Arthur who'd passed out in the office. He visited John, where he interrupted both he and Esme in bed, and told him to get dressed. He told Charlie to get the wagons ready, and he took the car out of the garage. He'd round up everyone and meet at the shop before heading off to Worcester. First, he'd go home.

"…And watch Thomas. He does what he does, but he does it for us," He heard Polly's voice in the shop, "I think." She crossed her chest and kissed her rosary.

Tommy didn't say anything at first. His eyes found the spot on the floor. The blood vanished into lines making out a shape, but even those had begun fading. He hated seeing it there out in the open. It pained him to see it there. This had been the place where things changed. It reminded him of what happened to her, and how she'd changed. He tried thinking her words had been out of pain and opium, but he knew better than to think such silly things.

Polly turned and saw him there. She hadn't changed out of her nightdress and hadn't brushed her curls. When she saw him, she looked almost embarrassed. "I did that every morning during the war," she told him, "Thought I'd done it for the last time."

"Today will be the last time, Pol," he said. "After today, there won't be any more prayers. We'll be set," he assured her, "Family meeting in ten minutes."

"Thomas," she called him as he'd made to leave. When he turned to look at her, she said, "Go to her."

He knew she'd say that. She and everyone else had been telling him. He knew Ada had been angry and hurt. John consistently called him an idiot. Arthur told him if he didn't act soon, he'd take Rose for himself. He wasn't the one in the wrong here. He'd apologized to her; he'd set up Grace for her. Why was he the bad one all of a sudden?

"She's miserable," she said. "I can tell. I talked to her the other day."

"You did? Where?"

"The church," she answered. "She's been going there on Sundays. She finds solace in a quiet place like that."

"Good for her then."

He made to leave again, but she said, "You should see her. You might not come back after today."

"I will, Pol."

"What if you don't?" she asked.

"I've come back from worse than Billy Kimber."

"Doesn't mean you will come back. She misses you, and she'll keep missing you even after today."

He wanted to see her. On so many occasions, he'd go by Harry's house but never knock on the door. He'd stand across the street and look at her window. He saw she had a potted plant now. Tommy heard she'd gone back to the pub, and was the same as she always was. Jeremiah told him she kept to a strict routine every day, and hardly strayed from it. She threw herself into her work and activities. She kept herself busy so she wouldn't think of him. He supposed the tough girl act didn't work out for her. He expected as much. It wasn't in her to be cruel.

"I'll think about it," he said. "Family meeting in ten," he repeated before walking away.

Tommy tried ignoring the emptiness in him. That hole in his heart had been there in France, and it was no stranger to him. Yet, since the hospital it'd grown. It ached when he thought of Rose on her own. He often pictured her sitting by the window with a book on her lap, enjoying the sunshine with her little plant. She'd be happy and safe that way. He met up with his brothers and made his way towards Chinatown. He said nothing to John's agreement with Polly and Arthur's implications that he'd visit Rose after they'd finished. Tommy wished they'd stop talking about her.

Once in Chinatown, he paid for their suits for the day. They had to look sharp and ready. Then the tailor said, "You want to hear something funny?"

Tommy looked at him for a moment, and then stepped forward. He added an extra pound to the stack on the table and leaned in.

"He's in the back," the tailor whispered, "He'd come for one of my girls."

Campbell. Tommy supposed he'd given up his search for Grace. Danny told him she was no longer staying at her hotel in London. Tommy guessed she'd hopped on a train or a ship. She couldn't spend the rest of her life running from her husband. If she left England, she'd be safe anywhere else. Being a man, it wasn't surprising Campbell found comfort in another woman. Tommy went to the back room, where the girls entertained their customers, and found him there. He'd been pulling on his jacket when Tommy entered. Tommy smirked. He pulled out his pistol and cocked the barrel.

"I'm unarmed," Campbell said.

Tommy put his gun back in the holster. He then said, "It's funny, Inspector. I thought you came here to clean up the city; not to sleep with its whores. I figured you as a happily married man. Then again, you're no different than any other copper who came before you. "

"And I'm no different than the ones who shall follow if I were to leave," he said.

"Oh you have no reason to stay," Tommy said. "You have what you came for. Your wife's run off on you from what I heard. You should be out trying to win her back, not wasting your time here chasing the scum of the city."

"Perhaps you shouldn't be wasting your time with Kimber and go look in the garden for your little flower," he said. "I know a few of my men who wouldn't mind plucking a petal or two from her."

"Don't talk about her that way," Tommy said, lacing a warning in his words.

Campbell smirked, "I have a meeting with Mr. Churchill today at midday. I have no doubt he means to congratulate me on finding those stolen guns. You still don't know how we found them, do you?"

Tommy had an idea, and it had pretty blonde hair. "You got lucky," he said.

"No, I have a very crafty wife," he admitted.

"Had," Tommy corrected, "Would be the proper term here."

Campbell glared, "You and I are opposites, you know, but also the same. We hate people, and people hate us. They also fear us."

"But?"

"But we are never loved," he said. "The women we love break our hearts. My Grace, and your Rose, Mr. Shelby. They're both strong women who will never truly love us. The only love men like us get is the one we pay for," he gestured to the bed. "I bid you good luck today. You're going to need as much of it as you can."

He left the room. He was wrong. Rose still loved him. Tommy felt it inside him. If she truly had forgotten him, he'd know. He didn't know how. He would simply just know. Perhaps because the hole in him would become even larger if she did. He thought about seeing her. He thought about looking into her eyes because Polly was right. He might not come back from this. Weston and Kimber hated him too much. If one thing went wrong, he'd be dead. Tommy couldn't die without telling her that he loved her no matter what had happened. He'd want her to know it was behind him; the past was the past and she meant the world to him.

He found Ada when he came back to the house. She sat in the lounge with Karl and Freddie. She glared at him. She'd been side-eyeing and glaring at him for nearly a month and a half now.

"She's still upset," Freddie told him when he came to greet him. "I tried talking her down, but it only flares her up. She was more hurt than you, I think."

Yes. She was hurt. They all were hurting. "I know she is," Tommy said.

"If you know then why the fuck won't you talk to her?" Ada said.

"I got bigger things to worry about today, Ada," he said. "Please."

She shook her head, cradling Karl and mumbling something about 'idiots'. He ignored her and gathered everyone up into the shop. Tommy stood at the front of the room while everyone stood around the room facing him. Rose should be here, he thought. The girl did a lot for the company, and she'd been more of an asset than she'd intended. He also missed her. He missed seeing her beautiful face amongst them, smiling at him encouragingly. Tommy shook his head and addressed his men.

"Alright," he said, "I brought you all here today because today is the day we replace Billy Kimber. Today is the day we become respectable. Today is the day we become part of the official national association of racecourse bookmakers. But first, we do the dirty work. Now, you all know this day has been coming for a long time, I just hadn't told anyone the date." He turned to the blackboard behind him, "Today we go to the Worcester races. Track opens at one, we get there at two. Now, Kimber knows we're coming and the Lees are going to help us take them over. We'll focus on Kimber's men while the Blighters take care of Weston's men. I'll deal with Kimber. It'll be us and the Blighters against Weston and Kimber. I expect a swift victory that will send a signal all the way to London that we believe in letting legitimate businesses run peacefully. Any questions?" When nobody spoke, he said, "Let's go to the Garrison and prepare for war, boys."

* * *

They weren't exactly quiet when they came in. Their noise startled her, causing her to make a line on the page. Rose grumbled. She erased the line from the accounting book, and continued working on her numbers. She added up the total profits and wrote down the result. Rose didn't subtract or add any money. This pub was honest again. She wouldn't be laundering Tommy's money through it anymore.

She thought of what Polly told her. He missed her. He thought and asked about her. If he cared so much, why wasn't he here? Why wouldn't he come back? A part of her thought about going to him. Even if he didn't want to talk or listen to her, she just wanted to see his face. She knew today was the day. He'd marked it in one of the books, though at the time she hadn't known what it meant. Her grandfather and Mr. Kimber wouldn't be expecting them. Kimber won't have as many men on security because he thinks he's safe behind Richard's men. They think today would be a regular race day. Rose hoped Tommy would get what he wanted. She hoped that after today he'd finally be happy. She prayed that he'd live. She looked up at the cross she'd hung in the office. Harry said this was a pub, not a church. He complained about it every time he saw it, but never took it down. He eventually stopped when Rose said it made her feel better.

"Please," she said, "Let them come back safe. Protect them. Protect Arthur, who has so many demons and so much sadness inside him. Protect John, who has so much love and wisdom in his heart. And…" she sighed, "And protect Tommy. Protect him most of all, please. I know he isn't the holiest of men, and he certainly isn't a saint. I know he can be dangerous and cold. But, he doesn't deserve whatever Kimber has planned for him." She thought of them bringing him back. They'd put a sheet over his corpse so they could hide him. He would've died fighting. He wouldn't go down so easily. It'd be ugly and messy. She nearly cried. She didn't want to think of how today could end. "If he does die," she said, "Please let him-let him into heaven. Open the gates and let him in so when I die, I can be with him too. Please. Please, please, please. I love him. Please."

"Rose?"

His voice was like an old song. She should have known he'd come with them, but then again, he hadn't been in almost two months. She wiped her eyes discretely and looked over her shoulder. He was handsome as ever in his newly tailored suit. She was certain he'd taken a moment to cover the new fabric in cigarette smoke. Rose stared. She didn't know where to begin with him. He closed the door behind him, giving them privacy from the men outside.

"It's today, isn't it?" she asked.

"It is."

"So, you're on your way to Worcester then?"

"I am."

"Will you come back?"

"I will."

"What happens when you come back?"

"Shelby Brothers Limited would be a legitimate business," he answered.

How could she say it? How could she make everything okay again? She stood from the chair, and said, "Tommy…"

"Don't," he shook his head, "Don't do it. Not today."

"Tommy, I'm not going to apologize for what happened," she began, "Because a simple 'I'm sorry' doesn't even begin to make up for it. I was stupid and thoughtless. I shouldn't have said what I said, and it wasn't fair to you because you've done so much for me and you care about me so much and I've been nothing but ungrateful for it and made you feel like you meant nothing to me which isn't true because Tommy you mean the world to me and I wouldn't be half of what I am now without you there and I was really selfish and mean and hurtful and I regret everything I said that day and I won't make up any excuses for it because there are none," she rambled. "I love you so much Tommy, and even if you don't love me anymore I just wanted you to know that because you might not come back after today and I don't know what I would do if I never got a chance to tell you how wonderful and warm you really are, that you're not as much of a monster as you think and that you make me feel safe and happy and I should have cherished that more because before Harry and you, Ada, Arthur, Polly, John and even Finn came along I was just this lonely, scared little girl. I spent so much time thinking about myself that I never once thought about how things would affect you and the family and the business and everything else and I'm such an idiot because I had something good and pure and real and I let it go because I was only thinking about me when I should have been thinking about you because since the day I met you, you're the only thing I ever think about anymore." She took a breath, looking up at him again, "I love you, Tommy." When he didn't speak, she said, "Please, say something. Say anything."

"For the past month and a half I've been standing across from Harry's house," he said, "Looking up at your window and hoping you'd see me. I had Jeremiah following you around because I wanted to know if you were safe." He stepped forward, "I hadn't planned on coming today. I didn't need the distraction today, but then I thought about what would happen if I did die."

"A-And what did you think?"

"That I never would have told you that I love you," he said. He came closer and caressed her cheek as he always did, "Forget it. Just forget all of it. I love you, Rosie. When I come back today-and I will come back-I promise things are going to be different. I will own one of the largest legal race track syndicates in the country, and you'll be by my side when it happens. You'd be an employee of a legitimate company. I would shut down some of that other stuff, eh? Maybe open up a club like in London? I want you to be happy, Rose. I would do everything in my power to make you happy because I love you."

"You see that," she said, tears in her eyes, "That is what I mean. You love me. You love me and I hurt you constantly. How can you love me after how terrible I've been?"

"I wasn't much better," he said. "I'm guilty too. I knew Grace was a bad idea but I did it anyways. I thought about you the entire time and how much pain you were in and I just…I wanted her to fucking answer for it. I wanted somebody to tell her she wasn't going to slip away so easily."

"I told her to leave," she said. "She came here asking for forgiveness and I just told her to go."

"I know. She left this morning."

She sniffed, "Of course, you'd know that already." She pushed a stray lock of hair from his brow, and he wiped her tears. "What's going to happen when you come back?"

"We'll celebrate. We'll drink and sing songs and probably watch Nigel and Arthur go at each other in a sparring match," he said. "And you and I will go-"

"-Tommy!" Arthur burst into the office with Jeremiah, "We got a problem."

"What?"

"Tell him what you told me."

"One of my spotters saw two wagons coming up Stratford road," Jeremiah said, "They recognized some of the men. They're Kimber's men."

"Oh no," Rose said, "Then that means…"

"Kimber's coming here."

"But-but that's fine, isn't it? You can handle him, right?"

Tommy shook his head, "No, no we're outnumbered. Nigel and the Lees are at Worcester right now." Rose watched him pace around the office, hands going through his hair and behind his head. "Fuck!" he slammed his hands on the table. "How the fuck could this happen? How?!"

Rose thought. She considered every person who could've known about today, which seemed like an infinite about of people, until one person popped into her mind. "Someone told him," Rose said, "Someone who would've taken the opportunity to search around in an empty pub the night after it caught fire." When he didn't follow she said, "The day after my flat burned, Harry didn't open. The firemen were still clearing it out, and he wasn't sure if it was safe for people to be here. This being a public area, the Chief Inspector would've known about the fire which means-"

"-He would've told Grace-" Tommy said.

"-Who would've snuck in here to peek around," Rose affirmed. "The books were still intact when I came back. She would've seen this," She turned a page in the book and showed him the black star he'd drawn, "And wondered what it meant. Campbell would've known what it meant because you told him about your intentions with Kimber." She put the book down, "Don't tell me you never considered that."

"Of course I did," he said. He sighed, running a hand through his hair again, "You two come with me," he said to Arthur and Jeremiah. He looked to Rose quickly, "You go home; go to the bull pit with Ada and Polly, and stay there until I get back."

"So, it's 'home' again, is it?" she asked.

He cupped her jaw, "For me and you, it is."

He kissed her softly, and led Arthur and Jeremiah out of the room. His words hadn't made the worry go away. She watched all the men leave from the pub, and could only pray God would listen to her.


	36. Chapter 36

"Well, if we have to use guns," he said, "Let's use proper guns!"

He didn't have to turn around to know what they saw. Tommy already knew Kimber's men spotted Freddie toting one of the stolen machine guns, and Danny holding his own pistol. Both parties stood several feet away from each other, creating a no man's land in the middle of them. Tommy looked over Kimber's men. For every man he had, Kimber had three. The odds wouldn't have seemed so good if he didn't remember the spare machine gun. Kimber's own smug smile faded once he saw the large gun in Freddie's hands. There was no old man protecting him here. His men weren't bulletproof. None of them would ever take a bullet for him. He had many reasons to fear them now.

"You said something about being outgunned?" Tommy mocked.

At that moment, Kimber's men aimed their rifles, and Tommy's returned it. He wasn't scared. This wasn't the first time he faced a group of armed men. His eyes only focused on Kimber. He stared at Tommy in disbelief and worry. He knew he couldn't get out now. He couldn't pull away. Kimber couldn't run back to Worcester and hide behind Weston and his men. Silence came over the street. All the people locked themselves in their homes or had ran off elsewhere before the fighting started. It was just the Peaky Blinders and Kimber's gang. Both parties simply stood there with their guns raised. He wondered who would make the first shot.

"Move! I said move!"

Ada came out of the wall of men, wearing all black with a veil over her face and Karl in a black carriage. He could hear the boy wailing inside the carriage, and Ada looked upset. Tommy watched her walk into the middle of the two groups.

"What are you doing here?!" Freddie called out to her. "Get out of the way!"

"No! Shut up and listen!"

"Ada!"

"I said shut it!" Ada demanded. She had a fierce look in her eyes and threats in her tone. She faced Kimber's men, but he knew she spoke to them all. "Now, most of you were in France so you know what happens next. I've got brothers and a husband here, but you all have someone waiting for you. I'm wearing black in preparation," she said, pulling up her veil. She looked at Freddie, "I want you to look at me. I want all of you to look at me!" She looked to Tommy, "Who'll be wearing black for you?! Think about them," she said. "Think about them right now. Think of how much they care and how much pain they'd feel if you died here today; all the good and bad times you've shared would mean nothing if you died today. Now fight if you want to, but that baby ain't going anywhere and neither am I."

Uncertainty sat before them. None of Kimber's men would shoot a woman or her innocent baby. They all glanced at one another as if asking who would make the first shot. Then Kimber broke the tension by saying, "She's right, you know. Why should all you men have to die?" He reached into his coat, "It should just be them who've caused it."

It happened in a split moment. He saw the shine come off the gun. He heard the bang pierce through the air. He felt the bullet hit his shoulder, but it's as if it came unexpectedly. All the breath in him came out in one exhale. For a moment, Tommy wasn't sure where he was. The world seemed blurry and the voices around him were muffled. He could only feel the pain in his shoulder and the warm blood on his fingertips. His blood. Suddenly, it all came back to him again. He saw Karl's carriage in the middle of the two gangs, he saw his own men still holding up their guns, Danny lying in the mud with a bullet in his chest and Freddie pushing Ada out of the way of the two groups.

Rose. Rose would wear black for him. He thought of her crying in a black satin dress, sobbing as she watched them lay him to rest. They'd have no future together. They'd never get married, have a home, or have children. He'd never grow old with her. Tommy touched the bullet wound, feeling its sting starting to sink into him. No. No, it would not end like this. He looked and saw Kimber. Tommy took his chance. Pulling out his gun, he stood up straight and went right for him with it raised. He didn't hesitate. He didn't think twice. Tommy pulled the trigger and the first shot went straight through Kimber's skull. Tommy watched the king pin fall onto his back in the mud. Tommy felt nothing but relief. He was relieved this was finally over. He stared at Kimber's men. Tommy looked at the men with their rifles still aimed at the group, and Tommy's men aiming back at them. They all seemed unsure. He saw some of them glimpsing down at Kimber's corpse, as if hesitant whether they should fight or not.

"Kimber and I fought this battle one on one," he told Kimber's men. "It's over. Go home to your families!"

Tommy watched them all look at each other. He knew what would happen after this. Weston-if he isn't dead already-would hear about Kimber's death. He might come after Tommy, he might not. He'd be out of a bookmaker, and Tommy would not be interested this time. They all put their guns down. Two of them picked up Kimber and took him with them. Tommy looked down on the ground. Danny, large as he was, laid in a muddy puddle with the bullet he'd taken for Tommy in his chest. He was still and silent. Tommy didn't know what to feel other than sadness. If it hadn't been for Danny, he'd be the one being dragged through the mud.

"Scudboat, Curly," he said to them both, "Pick him up and bring him inside."

He walked towards The Garrison, the pain numbing his shoulder. Tommy didn't know how to feel. He never thought he'd make it this far. He only hoped Nigel kept up his end of the deal. Tommy would know once the man himself showed up. Once they all entered the pub, he took off his coat, his jacket and his shirt. He panted seeing the bullet hole cut deep into his skin, blood dripping out of it onto his chest. He looked around as if Rose would be there, but she wasn't. No. She was at home with Polly where she was safe. He would go get her. He'd get her and kiss her. He'd spend the whole night making it up to her. He'd tell her they were set now.

"Let's get this looked at," Jeremiah said.

Tommy got on the table, where Arthur and John held him down. Jeremiah retrieved a glass of whiskey and a scalpel and tweezers. Tommy knew what was coming next.

"Deep breath, Tommy," Jeremiah said.

Tommy took a deep breath and Jeremiah dug the tweezers into the wound. Tommy breathed out in a scream of pain. He could feel the tweezers clamping inside him, trying to grab the bullet lodged in his shoulder. It ached him. He kicked and screamed, sweat dripping down his forehead. The feeling sent little nerves down his body that controlled him, sending him back and forth and fighting against his brothers' hands.

"Take it, Tommy," Arthur encouraged, "Take the pain."

Tommy tried staying together as Jeremiah continued digging. He could feel the tweezers grip around the bullet and then pull it out of him. He gasped as air touched the empty wound. A big part of the torture was over. Arthur offered him a drink of vodka which he took a swig from before Arthur pushed the end into his wound instead. It stung terribly. He winced and clung onto Arthur. The moment he pulled away, he felt alleviated.

By the time they'd finished and Jeremiah stitched and bandaged him, he heard the doors open. Polly walked in and hugged each of her nephews. She said she was happy they were safe glad they'd won. Tommy's eyes found Rose.

"You're hurt," she said softly, touching the bandage on his shoulder.

"It's just a shoulder wound," he said, "It's nothing." It certainly wouldn't hold back his intentions for later in the evening. He brought her into his arms, resting his head on hers. It felt good to hold her this way.

"I heard about Danny," she said, "From Ada. She said he's dead?"

"He is," Tommy nodded, "He's in the next room."

"I'm sorry, Tommy," she told him. "I know you cared about him very much."

"I did," he replied. He tucked hair behind her ear, and said, "He took a bullet for me. If he hadn't, I would be the one on the table instead."

"Please don't say that," she said. "That's all I've been thinking about and it was killing me." Rose hugged him tightly, burying her head in his neck.

"Come on," he said.

He pulled on his coat before walking into the opposite room where they kept Danny flat on the table. Tommy never thought he'd see Danny dead. Things like this never occurred to him before, mostly because he'd kept Danny so far away from Small Heath that this madness couldn't touch him. Daniel Owens suffered enough since the war. No more hallucinations or delusions would haunt him. He'd finally found the serenity he was looking for. It was heartbreaking that it took death to finally stop them. Everyone filled the space in the room, and they all looked down on him in silence.

"Now we can bury him properly," John said, "In the grave we dug for him."

"Yeah," Tommy nodded, "It's high on a hill. He'd like that." He rose his whiskey bottle, "To Danny Whizbang. May we all die twice."

Then men followed him in their toasts to Danny. He looked down at Rose, who only stared sadly at Danny. He had to thank Danny for so many things, and he never will be able to. He kissed Rose's head, and then said quietly, "Come on, the day is ours. Let's celebrate."

Everyone followed him out of the room, where Arthur began pouring drinks. The Garrison was his pub after all. Rose suggested calling on Harry for the serving, but he said Arthur would handle it for them. The whiskey, gin and wine flew off the bar from how many of them began drinking. Their merriment came shortly after with songs, stories and jokes. Wives and girlfriends eventually arrived as well, creating an even happier occasion. He helped Scudboat and Curly put Danny on the back of the wagon. Then Danny could finally be put to rest.

* * *

The party was in full swing when she finally approached Ada. Karl wrapped up in her arms, she stood beside Freddie who lovingly kissed her before kissing his son. They were a happy little family now. She figured they wouldn't have to be in hiding anymore considering the fact Campbell would probably move on from Small Heath. He could go back to being a father, husband and communist agitator. Rose saw Ada's big smile and even heard her laugh. It vanished once Rose came close to her.

Ada handed Karl to Freddie, and stood in front of her with arms crossed. Rose frowned, "I'm sorry, Ada. I'm sorry that I hurt you. You're my best friend, and I shouldn't have pushed you out." When Ada didn't respond, she said, "You're still mad at me then?"

Ada's hardness melted as her arms fell to her sides. "No," she said, "Of course not." The two girls hugged each other. Rose felt Ada's tight hug. "You're still an idiot though," she said in their hug.

Rose laughed, "Well, it's a good thing I'll have you around when it starts becoming obvious."

They laughed together before breaking apart. The day started out terribly, and slowly evolved into something she never thought would happen. She talked with them both and held baby Karl. Rose suddenly realized a baby of her own would be possible. She could get married one day and have children. Maybe she could write her own poetry or grow a garden or do something with her life. She wasn't a scared little girl in a basement. She wasn't confined to four walls and a door atop a staircase. Her life truly was hers. A sudden happiness rushed through her at all the possibilities. She didn't live in fear or worry anymore. She had the people around her. They were her family now. Every person in this room meant something to her now. The girl in the basement only dreamed of having such friends.

She found Polly by the bar. The woman quietly drank her wine, watching the people around her celebrate. She had the smallest of grins on her face just like Rose. "You know," Polly said when she reached her, "Now that this family is set and things are looking up for us, I think Tommy will put his mind to something else."

Rose laughed, taking a sip from her water glass, "And what would that be?"

"You," Polly answered.

"Me?"

"He'll want to marry you," she smiled, "Have a nice home together, and then he'll finally have everything."

"Did he-Did he say something to you?"

Polly chuckled, "Oh no, he didn't. He won't ask now, not when there's so much to put into order, but I reckon soon enough, Rosie, you'll be a real Shelby."

'A real Shelby'. The idea gladdened her more than frightened her. She smiled brightly, thinking of the prospect as she watched the party goers with Polly. The idea of marrying Tommy never crossed her mind before. She'd considered it once perhaps, but she never thought it'd be possible. The idea seemed so out of reach. The party truly riled up when Nigel entered with his gang and the Lee family. Charlotte and her children followed suit, instantly taking up drinks and socializing. Rose embraced Nigel the moment she spotted him. He hadn't been injured in battle, but she saw the sadness hidden behind his glee. Yes, he was the owner of a large family dynasty, yet he had lost his father. Charlotte hid hers by laughing and flirting with people in the room.

"I'm sorry, Nigel," she said to him, letting him go.

He took her meaning and said, "It couldn't be helped in the end, could it? I-I gave him a chance and the old bastard wasn't having any of it. He didn't even fight. His men did the fighting for him." He nodded to himself, "I told Charlotte already. She was at the races and saw the whole thing. Alan's men came in to break things up but Dad was already gone. He wasn't happy, but I told him he was free now. Your gran will know soon enough. She'll be heartbroken and bitter, but she'd soften up. I know she will."

"She will," Rose nodded.

Nigel looked down at her, "You're going to be happy, Rosie. I know you will. You don't just have the Shelbys anymore. You got us too, you know."

She beamed at him, "I know, Uncle." She hugged him again and then said, "Polly's at the bar, you know, if you want to talk to her."

"I might just consider that," he said.

"Ask her to dance while you're at it," Rose suggested as he made his leave.

Nigel only smiled back at her. He walked away into the crowd and Rose stood alone. She saw Esme and John kissing, little Finn being lifted up into the air by Arthur, and no sign of Tommy. She greeted Blighters who tipped their hats to her, and smiled at Blinders who called her by name. However, the one person she wanted stood outside by himself. Rose went behind the bar where she found the champagne he'd hidden away, and took it out the door. The sounds of the party were muted the moment the doors closed behind her. Standing in the cold night, she saw him looking up into the sky.

"It actually happened," he said.

"Yes, it did," she replied, standing beside him.

"My family now owns the third largest race track operation in the country," he said, "That's just behind the Sabinis and the Solomons in London."

"And they're all celebrating inside," she told him. She took his hand and tried leading him away, but he stayed put. "Tommy, come inside. It's cold out here and everyone's expecting you."

"I don't care right now," he said. He looked back at her, "There's only one person I want to be with right now." He brought her in front of him and wrapped his arms around her. "Look at the stars, Rosie," he said, "Look at them. After today, the future is as infinite as the sky. We could have anything we want."

"I never really wanted much," she said. "I never thought I could have anything more than what I'd been given."

"You will now," he said, "Whatever you want, it'll be yours."

"What if I only want you?"

"Then you'll have me. Forever."

She looked at him, "You promise?"

"I promise. Whether we get married or not, you'll always have me and I'll always have you," he said. He kissed her softly. She faced him as their kiss deepened. His hands slipped down her body, giving her that familiar warm sensation. She never wanted him to stop kissing her. The safety of his arms was a paradise she'd never leave. Her hands went into his hair, and his kept hold of her hips. When he broke away he said, "You had no intentions of going back inside, did you?"

She giggled, shaking her head, "How did you know?"

"The champagne bottle was a pretty good indication," he smiled. He kissed her again and then said, "Let's go home, Rosie."

Rose smiled as they began walking home together. Home. She had a home now and it was with the man right beside her. There were no more worries or fears. She didn't care about her scars or her past anymore. The man who tortured her dreams would fade into nothingness. The man walking her home wounded and stained with blood will fill her days and her nights. His family would become her family. His life was her life too. Small Heath was home.

And she'd never have to run again.

 **THE END**


End file.
